


Brothers in Arms

by LondonFan



Series: Brothers In Arms [1]
Category: American Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Richlee - Fandom, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Agent AU, Alternate Universe, Dry Humping, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Sexual Intercourse, Swearing, Terrorism, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-18 18:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonFan/pseuds/LondonFan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several threats and terror warnings, sent by a new terror cell called Black Fall, are keeping the MI6 busy. Richard Armitage, an experienced secret agent, is on a mission to find the leader of Black Fall, kidnap him and bring him in for interrogation. The mission seems to be planned perfectly, but the unexpected encounter with another agent endangers both Richard and the person that might one day mean the world to him.</p>
<p> <a href="http://nuonuodraws00.lofter.com/post/1d36d222_7699aee">Translation into Chinese by Nicole_S8813 available</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mission Black Fall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [attichen on tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=attichen+on+tumblr).



> Attichen posted a beautiful Richlee AU idea on her blog, and I needed to write it, and so we sat down together and produced this 75 page long story. (the beautiful cover is by attichen as well! It's so stunning!) Not only the writing has been fun, but we've become great friends, and we do hope you enjoy this story as much as we do! (Beware: it's a rather gruesome one, and not as fluffy as my other stories usually are...)
> 
> And since it's Good Friday, the first chapter is our first Easter egg for you! ♥

Richard Armitage runs a hand through his hair that is plastered to his forehead. It’s way too hot in this plane he decides and grabs his water bottle to take a huge gulp. He doesn’t quite understand why the pilot thought it a good thing to turn up the heating _that_ much, especially since they are headed to Afghanistan. When he arrives at the airport, he will have to catch someone to bring him to Qalāt, an 11.000 souls town in the middle of nowhere, and he’s not exactly looking forward to that either.

He is not here on holiday, however. He is here on a mission.

It’s been only a couple of hours since he lost a good friend in a mission like this. Back then, they were in London instead of Afghanistan, and they had to take captive a member of the same terror cell he is after now, but it feels just the same to Richard.

Since said last mission, not even 48 hours have passed and he still feels a trembling in his bones, his whole body. He hasn’t slept a single minute since the last operation because the memories keep coming back, keep dancing around in his mind’s eye, colourful and so real. They don’t leave him alone, they are with him every second of his life, and even though being awake is a torture, falling asleep and seeing the nightmares is even worse.

To lose someone – well, that’s part of his job. He knew what awaited him when he signed his contract at the MI6. He has been trained to ignore the loss of fellow agents, to not be influenced by it. Too many lives are at stake in his job, and the life of one single person must not be thought of as more important than all the others.

However, he can’t suppress his grief, his sadness. Still the thought of his last mission hurts him, the mission that brought him into this blasted plane. He almost wishes to be back in the rainy cold in London that seems to be the paradise on earth compared to the heat on the plane.

The last task should have gone smoothly, it wasn’t that complicated. He has had orders like this ever since he started out as a newbie at the MI6, all those years ago. They – he and his partner – were supposed to catch a terrorist who was thought to be connected to an important terror cell that has been a thorn in the MI6’s side for quite some time now. They were supposed to catch him and bring him in for interrogation, yet the unpredictable malice of said terrorist had taken its toll…

 

**48 hours earlier**

“Armitage!” He still remembers how the booming voice of his boss had travelled through the office building of the MI6, the British International Secret Service. “A word.” Mr Graham turned on his heel and walked into his office, waiting for Richard to join him.

“You remember the meeting we had last week, about this new terror organisation called Black Fall?”

Richard nodded, of course he did. This network just started sending death threats to several people in the world, out of the blue a couple of weeks ago. What was the most horrific part, though, is the fact that they already succeeded in killing three people – two agents from the CIA in the States, and one from the UK’s MI6. Richard didn’t know the MI6 agent that died personally, but her death was a huge tragedy to the organisation. Ever since, the death threats started piling up, four more agents of the MI6 are threatened, and only a week ago, the terror cell had threatened to blow up the White House, the Eiffel Tower and other places all over the world. The MI6 assumed they were planning an attack on London as well, but had no proof as of yet. Thus, Graham had urged his unit on to work harder and find out more about Black Fall.

However, research proved to be difficult. The network had been careful. The death threat videos had been sent from several places in the world, most likely thanks to coded re-routing techniques that made it impossible to find the real source of the videos. The little the MI6 knew boiled down to the name. It was not much to go on, but they needed to try and stop the terror cell as soon as possible.

“Right.” Mr Graham pulled out a thick file, dropping it on his desk with a _thud_. “The past few days, I had some agents look into the whole thing a little more. We still don’t know who the boss is, but we’ve got extremely valuable information concerning a planned suicide attack here in London.”

“I see.” Richard folded his arms across his chest, leaning over to glance at the file. “And how do you know that?”

Richard’s superior pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. “We were lucky enough to succeed with our wire tapping.”

Richard skimmed the paper. “You mean, the mobile of that young man we think to be a member of Black Fall?”

“Exactly,” his boss agreed. “He’s registered as Ajmal Qadir in the UK, but God knows if it’s his real name. He seems to be an inexperienced newbie, and he isn’t exactly careful when chatting away happily on his phone. Seems like he doesn’t even _entertain_ the possibility of being monitored. Well. All the better for us. What you have in front of you is the transcript of an incoming phone call to his mobile just yesterday.”

Richard raised his eyebrows and tapped the paper. “A suicide attack?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow, at 5pm, just in the middle of the rush hour. We need to react quickly.”

Richard nodded. “Of course. Whereabouts is it?”

“That’s the thing,” Graham replied with a shrug. “We don’t know that yet. Read a little further.”

Richard did as he was told. “Oh.”

“Indeed. They’ll call him sometime tomorrow and tell him the location. They really want to be on the safe side. This way, we can’t possibly react in time. Usually, we’d cordon off the area around the announced attack, but… there won’t be time for that now. So we need to keep monitoring him – and react quickly.”

“And I’m guessing you want me for the job?” Richard grinned at his boss.

“There’s no better man out there,” Graham said with a smile and patted his shoulder. “Take Greene with you, would you?”

Jacob Greene was Richard’s partner at the MI6. He only joined about a month ago, coming fresh from training and he still had a thing or two to learn. But since Richard was an experienced agent, he gladly accepted the task to instruct him. Besides, Jacob was a nice guy. Tall, handsome, fluffy brown hair, and with a great sense of humour, he turned out to be clever and committed, and he did his best to catch up to his seniors. Richard liked working with him. He’d even consider him something like a friend. But still…

“Jacob has never had field experience of this sort before,” he objected. “A _suicide attack_? It’s not exactly a mission you send a rookie on.”

Graham sighed. “I know. But you’ll lead the whole operation, and I trust you. Greene is intelligent. He is quick to learn. And besides, hands-on experience is the best thing for the lad. It’s better than boring research or hit the files all day. He needs to get out one day. And this way, he’ll learn from the best.”

Richard felt his cheeks grow warm at the compliment. He nodded. “Fine. I’ll take him.”

Graham beamed at him. “ _Brilliant_ ,” he exclaimed. “Brief him tonight, though. So that he knows what’s coming. Get some rest, too. I’ve got my men on the phone surveillance. We’ll keep you posted. Oh, and there’s one more thing. You need to get Qadir _alive_. Not just to avoid thousands of people getting killed, but because he could prove to be a valuable source of information.”

“A newbie? Do you really think he might be important?” Richard didn’t sound convinced.

Graham nodded. “Yeah. After all, the leader himself is going to phone him tomorrow to tell him where he should blow himself up. That’s got to account for something. And anyway, even though he is a newbie, he still is a member of Black Fall. So he must know basic information, don’t you think?”

“True enough,” Richard admitted. “Fine then. I’m going to look for Jacob and brief him, and we should be good to go tomorrow.”

“Great. I know you’ll bring this mission to a satisfying end.”

But in the end – he didn’t.

He _did_ bring the mission to an end, and thanks to the phone call, the MI6 got both a voice recording of Black Fall’s leader and the location from which he called since they were able to trace the call. They also captured Qadir and brought him in for questioning.

But it was not a satisfying outcome for Richard.

The mission began at around three-thirty PM. Graham called him and Greene into his office, announcing that they’d expect the leader of Black Fall to call Qadir any time now. And when he did, everything went down as quickly as it could.

“It’s King’s Cross!” agent Tyler exclaimed, tearing down his headphones. “King’s Cross!”

“Oh crap,” Graham swore. “If he blows himself up in the right place, he’ll probably blast half of St Pancras into pieces as well.”

“King’s Cross!” Tyler bellowed again. “Escalators!”

“Right, okay.” Richard snapped into action. He was just functioning now, already going through several plans in his head, then grabbed his jacket and motioned for Jacob to follow him. “We’ll get him.”

And off they went, speeding through London’s streets as fast as the could.

Richard handed Greene an earpiece and a microphone on the way to the station. “I’ve got the same,” he explained. “We’ll use it as a means of communication.”

“Got it.”

Richard jerked the wheel violently to drive around a corner and Greene reflexively grabbed the edge of his seat for support. “Sorry.” Richard is a dangerous driver when he has to be fast. He cuts corners every time he can, makes good use of the hooter, and ignores every traffic light there is. He kind of feels sorry for Jacob, but their mission is more important than any traffic rule now.

Eyes fixed on the busy street before him, Richard told Greene a few more things he deems important. “I know this is your first real field operation, and I know how excited you must feel. I was bloody excited as well. But keep in mind – don’t rush in. This man we’re looking for _is_ dangerous and he _has_ a bomb and he’s not a person to be trifled with.”

Their car almost drove right into a double-deck bus, Richard slammed down on the brakes, then put the car in reverse, ignoring Jacob’s scream and speedily drove around the bus. “When you see him, don’t do _anything_ off your own bat. I know you’re clever, I know you’re competent, but it’s your first mission and adrenaline tends to kick in pretty quickly, and I’m the more experienced of the two of us. So – you see him, you talk to me via the earpiece.”

“Okay.” Jacob has turned pale and quiet, still digging his fingers into the upholstery of his seat.

Richard cut a corner sharply, almost knocking over a pedestrian. Jacob’s head fell back against the head rest, eyes squeezed shut.

“Sorry, rookie,” Richard said apologetically. “We just have to hurry up.”

“I know. I know. I’ll be fine. I’ve learnt all that in training anyway.”

Richard smirked. “That’s my boy.” He could see that Greene is nervous as hell, uncertain and trembling. He couldn’t help but wonder if it really was a mistake to take him, just as he told Graham. He thought back to his own first weeks at the MI6 and he came to the conclusion that he most likely would have been overwhelmed by such a task as well.

Richard looked at Greene who calmed down a little and was now staring ahead with a determined look on his face. He put his hand on Greene’s right shoulder and squeezed. “You’ll be good, Jake. I believe in you.”

“Cheers.” Jacob smiled at him weakly, but it was a genuine smile.

Richard took that as a good sign.

They arrived at King’s Cross about ten minutes later. Richard parked the car carelessly on the pavement, then he and Greene jumped outside and ran into the station. Richard looked around, trying to see Qadir but obviously didn’t see anyone.

“Let’s split up,” Greene suggested. “We might find him faster that way.”

Richard nodded approvingly at his presence of mind, then ran to the left, to the ticket booths, while Jacob turned to the right and ran for the escalators. Richard pushed several people out of the way, ignoring their irritated screams, and scanned the crowd for Qadir. He had spent hours last night studying several photographs of him, trying to memorise every inch of his face, but he wasn’t able to find him.

Jacob, however, was successful.

Richard heard him whisper in his ear. “Rich, I’ve got him. Down on the platform.”

“Got it. I’m coming.” Richard turned on his heel, swiftly moving through the crowd and down the escalators. He was close to the platforms when he heard several grunts coming from Jacob. His heart beat involuntarily sped up, his whole nervous system electrified and alerted. This didn’t sound well at all.

He started running immediately, almost pushing a little boy down the escalator’s stairs, but he managed to catch him and then continued to run towards the platform. Panting, he reached it, a train just departing, and he saw Jacob and Qadir struggling. People were forming a crowd around them, a teenaged boy screaming “Fight! Fight! Fight!”, and Richard wriggled through the bystanders.

All of a sudden, Greene dropped down on the floor, holding his leg and yelling in pain. Qadir must have hurt him, and Richard saw a knife flashing in Qadir’s hand. The crowd gasped and backed away, scared now, and not as curious as before.

“Jacob!” Richard bellowed, but it was too late. Qadir was already on him, fumbling with something for a few seconds, then got up and held Greene in a headlock. Jacob was wearing the vest with explosives now, the people on the platform started screaming and running around like headless chickens.

“I’ve got the release button in my hand!” Qadir screamed, his voice trembling. He was afraid. So afraid. “If you take one step closer, this man will die! And you all with him!” He started backing away, dragging Jacob with him, and Richard couldn’t do anything. It was too dangerous. He did point his gun at him, but he couldn’t shoot. If he did, the bomb would explode, and that would kill everyone around them. So he just let the terrorist walk away, helplessly looking at the whole scene. When Qadir reached the escalators, he let go of Greene in a flash and pushed him towards Richard, then started running upstairs, pushing people out of his way, not caring at all.

“Go after him!” Greene screamed immediately, waving Richard off. “GO! I’m fine, I’ll get by, I’ll call for reinforcement. Now _get him_.”

Richard needed a moment to get into gear, but then his professionalism took over and he started to run after Qadir. For a moment, he lost sight of him but the scandalised scream of a woman in her forties drew his attention back on track. Qadir was pushing his way through a group of German tourists who seemed to block his path to the west exit.

Richard used Qadir’s struggle to make up for the time he lost. He jumped over some suitcases on the floor and took a short cut over a line of trolleys which were considerately pushed into his way by a kind staff member. It really was his lucky day today…

Some security members took notice of the commotion and were blazing their trail into his direction. They looked rather angry, and Richard really didn’t have the time to busy himself with them, so he simply yelled at the first police man that came along to take care of the injured people at the platform. The nervous, flabbergasted look he got as a response didn’t really cheer him up, though.

Qadir made it to the exit and ran outside onto the Battle Bridge place, continuing to race north west determinedly. Richard saw him through the glass walls and realised that he was heading for St Pancras. He was probably aiming for the parking lot outside to get to his car – and this was where Richard would get him.

While Qadir was running towards the main entrance to reach his car, Richard took the side exit that would lead him to the parking lot in a matter of seconds. And indeed, just when Richard arrived, a car beeped and unlocked, and someone was stumbling right towards him. Richard enjoyed shoving Qadir in his side with all the force he could muster and tripping him up. Qadir fell, and in a second, Richard was on him, starting to swing at him violently. The mental image of Greene being threatened by Qadir and his knife flashed up in his mind, and Richard got even angrier and his blows grew stronger. Suddenly, he heard a sickening crunch and Qadir’s nasal bone gave way under Richard’s knuckles. Disgusted by the sound, he paused – Qadir needed to be alive to give the MI6 important information regarding Black Fall, after all.

Qadir was coughing up blood now and was trembling underneath Richard. He was surprised to note, though, that Qadir wasn’t shaking because he was afraid – he was _laughing_.

“What the _fuck_ are you laughing at, you son of a bitch?” He grabbed the collar of Qadir’s shirt forcefully, shaking his head up and down several times.

Qadir didn’t answer. He pulled a mobile phone out of his jacket with a bloody smile and showed it to Richard. Richard froze when he saw a countdown on the mobile screen, counting down from two to one to zero.

A muffled bang made the building in front of them tremble. The explosion came from King’s Cross.

Richard’s ears were ringing, everything around him seemed to slow down, and his thoughts broke off. His brain refused to allow the most logical, most obvious explanation for this.

Following a blunt automatism, Richard punched Qadir again, one last time. He knocked him out with a hard blow to his face, then pulled out a pair of handcuffs and tied him to the closest lamp post on the pavement next to the station. Then he ran back to the tube station, back to Greene.

The streets were full of dust, and so was the air. Car alarms were going off everywhere, screams filled the place. Plenty of people were running away from the station, fear evident in their faces. Some had been thrown on the ground by the explosion and were now crouching in the middle of the street. Richard didn’t take notice of any of them, he just wanted to reach the platform where he had seen Greene for the last time as quickly as possible. Yet with every step that he took, every step that brought him closer, his knees became weaker. It seemed that the centre of the explosion was the same way where Greene had been.

Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm. It was the flabbergasted police man from before, the one that Richard had yelled at. He was dirty with dust, but kept Richard from entering the building with an important look on his face. Richard’s fist twitched and he would have hit said face had not Mr Graham’s car arrived in that very moment.

“Armitage, what happened? Where is Qadir?“

“He is tied to a lantern post, over at St Pancras. He won’t run away from us now,” Richard replied, surprised by his own calmness. „Graham, Greene was on the platforms, in the tube station. We’ve got to get him out of there!

“No. That will not be necessary anymore.” Graham looked at Richard with a worried expression.

“What are you talking about? He is hurt, he was extremely close to the explosion!”

“No, Richard. He was talking to us when the bomb went off. He was asking for reinforcement and asked how to defuse the bomb. However, there was nothing he could do – the bomb exploded. That bastard Qadir must have had another detonator built in.”

Richard stared at him blankly. His brain simply didn’t want to believe what his superior was trying to tell him.

“Richard. Greene cannot have survived the explosion. I’m sorry.”

With that, Graham left Richard to himself and went off with three other agents to arrest. Richard sank to his knees. He was trembling, staring at the destroyed station in disbelief. A sharp pain shot through his heart, making his eyes water. Angrily, he rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes to wipe them away. An agent from a different unit arrived and helped him stand up, led him to Graham’s car and when Graham had finished the arrest, he drove Richard back to the MI6 headquarters. He talked to Richard all the time during the ride, but he just nodded dimly, reflexively, every now and then. Later, he couldn’t remember a word that had been said.

Somehow he made it to a washroom in the building, where he stood in front of the mirror, staring at his tired face. He saw his red eyes – he must have shed more tears than previously thought. His hair was still dusty, his hands reddened by blood and scratched from Qadir’s attacks. The thought of Qadir brought him back to reality all at once, and all too soon. He threw some cold water into his face and cleaned himself off as good as possible. He didn’t have time to grieve now. They had to get a bloody terrorist and murderer to talk.

However, they didn’t let him inside the interrogation room. They wouldn’t even let him go behind the two-sided mirror to watch and listen. “Order from Mr Graham,” one of the agents said with a shrug and pushed Richard back. “You’re to wait in his office.”

Richard let out a frustrated scream but obeyed and flopped down on a chair in Graham’s office. He flexed his fingers, they were itching to punch Qadir again and again and again, but he knew that it wouldn’t be the best thing to do. So all he could do was wait.

He lost track of time and didn’t even notice when Graham walked in. His boss closed the door and cleared his throat, placing a transcript in front of Richard. “If you want to read his statement.”

Richard didn’t give an answer but took the paper, but even though he let his eyes flow over it, he didn’t take anything in. He was still too agitated but forced himself to switch into his professional mode.

“What did he say?” he asked. “I’d rather hear it from you. Don’t think I can fully concentrate on this now.”

Graham shot him a sympathetic smile that expressed understanding and sadness. “Qadir came clean pretty quickly. He said he didn’t know the name of the boss, but his location. It’s the same that we traced the call back to.”

Richard raised his eyebrows, skimming the transcription of the interrogation. “Sounds good. Whereabouts is it, then?”

His boss grabbed another paper, this time depicting a map. “Afghanistan.” He tapped the little town of Qalāt with his index finger. “It’s most likely not their headquarters, but it definitely is where the leader is at the moment and has been for the last two months.”

“Is this the place where they sent the videos from?” Richard wanted to know, putting down the transcription and glancing at the map.

“No,” Graham said. “Qadir didn’t know anything about them, and he’d been stationed there until last weekend. Then they made him fly to the UK and wanted him to go through with the suicide bombing. Which you and Greene thankfully stopped.”

Richard didn’t reply.

“Anyway.” Graham cleared his throat again. “We need to find out if the boy’s information were correct. We need to get a hold of this man. We need to take him in for questioning if we want to stop this bloody cell. And since you are my best man for the job and know all the important information already – this is where you come in.”

And here he is now, in the plane taking him to Afghanistan where he will have to capture El-Sayed and bring him back to England. It’s not going to be easy, he is just one agent after all. But Graham has promised him to be ready to send reinforcement and helicopters to fly El-Sayed to the UK safely. Richard would just have to call. They decided him taking the plane would be less suspicious than travelling to Qalāt by helicopter.

He still is tired, he is still pissed that he wasn’t allowed to beat Qadir to a pulp, he has had no time to relax after the conference since had to board the plane just a mere forty minutes afterwards, and he still is mourning Jacob.

And most of all, he doesn’t want to do this. But there is nothing he can do about it. So he just accepts his fate, closes his eyes, and tries to get some sleep.

The plane lands at Kandahar International Airport at 6:47 PM local time. It’s hot and stuffy, even inside the big airport building, and Richard already hates it. He is not one for heat, really. When he steps out, it’s even worse. Despite it being late in the afternoon already, it is still hot, and he goes to buy a chilled water bottle from the vending machine just outside the main entrance. Afterwards, he looks for some kind of taxi that will take him to his destination, the little town of Qalāt. Apparently, there is no taxi driver out there willing to take him all the way, but a friendly local senses the opportunity of earning some extra money, so he invites Richard to join him in his Jeep, and off they go.

The sun sets at around 7 pm, quite usual for the month of July, Richard’s driver informs him in broken English. It’s beautiful to look at, Richard decides, watching the sky turn orange and pink, then dark and blue, with some stars twinkling far off in the distance. He watches the landscapes immersed in inky blackness, and he allows his thoughts to wander off. For once, he doesn’t think about his mission, or Jacob. He thinks about nothing, really. And it’s so peaceful, this silence of his mind.

After almost three hours on the Kandahar Ghazni Highway, the native driver drops Richard off at Qalāt. Richard carelessly pushes 7000 Afghani into his hand and watches him drive off happily. He doesn’t care that he just spent about 80 British Pounds, he is just extremely tired and decides to find a hotel.

What he finds is not a hotel per se, it’s a rundown house that is being rented to tourists, and he doesn’t like it, but it’s the only thing he can find – well, _cares_ to find, because he simply is too exhausted for anything, so he enters and books a room for the next two weeks. Another man walks in shortly after him, he looks like a tired tourist as well, and he also doesn’t seem to care less about the appearance of the hotel. He is tall, has brown hair and tired eyes, and he reminds Richard of Jacob Greene a little. But then again, everyone seems to remind him of his partner these days. He sighs and pulls out his purse to pay for the room. The receptionist looks at him with a raised eyebrow, but says nothing and hands him his key, and as soon as the door has closed behind him, he falls into a restless, dreamless sleep.


	2. An Unexpected Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Richard plans a mission, it goes horribly wrong, and he meets a person over and over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tons of thanks and hugs and kisses go out to you amazing guys for all the comments and the kudos!! Hope you enjoy this chapter as well! Happy Easter!! ♥♥

The next morning, Richard wakes early. He glances at his watch, swears at the time – seven in the morning? Good God – and then turns around once more. He can’t doze off, however hard he tries, so he sighs and gets up. He hops under the shower, puts on a loose T-shirt and a pair of short trousers, grabs his notebook and his sunglasses and then sets out to explore the town. He needs to get to grips with it, needs to know it like the back of his hand, and he definitely has to check out the location of Black Fall’s quarters without raising any suspicion.

He wanders the dusty streets of Qalāt for a couple of hours, mapping every house and path and corner in his mind, doodling a little map into his notebook as well, just in case. When he feels comfortable enough with the city, he walks over to one of the stores in the city. He needs several things for his equipment before he can start the mission properly. He has brought black clothes and a thermographical camera that he has yet to put together, but there are things he couldn’t have bought in the UK and brought it over to Afghanistan.

The store is small and not very hygienic, but Richard will have to make do with what they offer. He buys two large bottles of water, a knife, a tourist guide, binoculars and a black scarf. If anyone was to ask him for what he needed that scarf, he’d answer it was against the sand and the wind. He will need it for his operation, however – hiding one’s face is to be recommended when attacking a terrorist group, he decides. The knife he needs for – well. Doing his job. He wouldn’t have been allowed on a plane with a gun or a knife, so he had to buy it here.

Just as Richard walks out of the store, he almost bumps into someone. Reflexively he says “Sorry” and the other replies “No, I’m sorry” and then he disappears into the shop. Only realising now that the man had answered him in English rather than Pashto, Richard whirls his head around and looks through the glass windows. It’s the guy he saw last night, the one who has a room in Richard’s hotel.

‘ _What a coincidence_ ,’ Richard thinks but doesn’t dwell on it. Qalāt isn’t exactly a big town, it’s only normal to run into people you’ve seen before.

His next stop is the local car rental. Well, it’s a guy who illegally rents his rundown car to people who need it. They have to pay in advance. Richard hires the car for a whole week, paying the man a gracious amount of money – and thus, has found his perfect observation car.

“This is all going pretty well,” he says to himself. “Jacob, my lad, you’ll be proud of me.”

~*~

As Richard is walking through the streets of Qalāt that evening, he runs into two Afghan men talking in hushed voices. Richard perks up his ears and stops a little away from them, pretending to study his tourist guide with interest. He cannot understand a lot, but he does hear the words _Black Fall_ , and he knows he is close.

The two men have spied him now, whispering even softer, then setting off at a brisk pace. Richard decides to follow them – with appropriate distance, of course. When they turn a corner, he starts to walk after them. Qalāt is not very large but all the more full of nooks and crannies, and the men lead him through the city’s maze confidently.

Outside a barber’s shop, Richard sees the Jacob Greene look-a-like again. He is staring after the two guys that Richard is following and starts scribbling furiously in a notebook. _It’s a small world after all_ , he thinks to himself yet he can’t help but have a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He focuses on the two Afghan men, however, sneaking after them carefully. They stop in front of a rather large house which looks fairly new. It has got two storeys but almost no windows, Richard notes. One of the men knocks at the door, then mumbles something in Pashto, and Richard understands the name “El-Sayed” as well as the Pashto word for “leader”.

Richard is absolutely certain, then. He has found Black Fall’s hideout, and he also knows the name of the leader.

With a smirk, he turns on his heels to get his equipment.

It’s time for a stakeout – and lots of waiting.

~*~

Richard spends several days observing the hideout.

He watches the people going in and out, and it seem to be always the same four guards. Richard has brought his thermographical camera with him as well, put it together in his hotel room, and is now staring intently at the screen. At the moment, all of the men are inside, and he can see five people in total. One of them must be the leader, El-Sayed. He seems to stay in the house day in, day out, and always in the same room, too.

Richard huffs a laugh.

This is too easy, there must be a catch _somewhere_. But nevertheless, he is planning his mission step by step. He obviously doesn’t know what the house looks like from the inside, he will have to improvise a few things, adapting to stair cases and rooms and all that. But it isn’t his first operation. He is pretty sure that he will do just fine.

He also runs into that man again, the one who has a room in his hotel. They stare at each other in passing, both frowning, and Richard gets more and more suspicious. Who _is_ that guy, and what does he want here? He is not a tourist, that much Richard believes to know. But why is he here, then?

But Richard has more important things to think about, and whenever his thoughts stray to the stranger, he forces himself to focus on his mission again.

Over the course of the following days, there are always five people in and around the house. Two stand in front of the entrance door, one is on the first floor, and the last one usually runs around El-Sayed’s room. If Richard kills the guards at the entrance, the others will most likely take notice and come downstairs. He could make quick work of it, then rush up to El-Sayed’s room and arrest him. Then he would radio the MI6 and ask for help – and that would conclude his mission.

Satisfied, he jots his plan down, puts out his camouflage and then goes to bed, ready to strike the next evening.

~*~

The sun has set when Richard leaves his hotel room.

He has his knife in his trousers, he is all dressed in black, and he holds the small thermographical camera in his hand. More he doesn’t need.

He walks to the house, leaving the car behind. It would attract too much attention, and that, he really cannot allow. When he reaches his destination, Richard looks at the screen of his thermographical camera one last time.

It shows six people.

He frowns. Why are there _six_ people all of a sudden, and who _is_ The Ominous Sixth Person? The unknown subject runs around on the first floor at the moment. Richard decides he will have to kill him as well, that shouldn’t be too hard. So he slips the camera into his trouser pocket, then silently tiptoes towards the house.

Richard slithers to the wall unseen, pressing tightly against it and side-steps to the guard on the right side of the door. He takes out his knife silently, steps a little closer – and in a swift motion, grabs the guard’s shoulder, turns him, jams the blade hard into his neck, hitting the carotid artery, rotates it and cuts out a piece of flesh. The guard drops dead on the spot.

The man next to him hasn’t even noticed that Richard was attacking until his colleague dies with a gurgle. In that time, Richard has already grabbed the weapon from the dead man’s belt, pushes his knife into the second guard’s inner thigh. He goes down, and Richard makes quick work by shooting him in the head.

He looks up, scanning the surroundings. That was great work, he decides – no-one heard, two of two dead, and not an injury himself. With a satisfied smile he enters the house.

And stares into the barrel of a gun pointed at his forehead.

“No move,” the third guard growls, “or I’ll kill you.”

Richard gulps, pretending to be scared. Despite the fact that this was a terrible surprise, he knows what to do. He moves quickly, knocking his head against the underside of the guard’s nose, head flying backwards and the guy going down. Richard then shoots him in the head and in the chest, ready to hurry up the stairs to El-Sayed’s room. Technically, there should still be two other people left to kill.

He rushes upstairs – and stumbles over a dead body. Frowning, he kneels, searching the man, and he recognises him from the monitoring. “Who the hell has killed you?” he wonders, running a finger along the man’s throat. He rubs his fingertips against each other, and blood trickles down his hands. “That was a pretty precise cut to his neck.” Richard looks around but sees no-one. “This is getting really weird,” he says and pushes himself up with a grunt. He has lost his scarf due to all that struggling, but he doesn’t care, really – there is only one more person left, and that one will be killed soon. He can see his face, no problem.

So he moves closer to El-Sayed’s room. He can hear some noise, the leader is in – perfect. The door is ajar, which is even better.

Richard quietly slips inside.

The room is quite large, Richard notes, and has two doors – the southern one he just came through, and one in the northern direction. It’s dark inside, and he can barely see a thing, but he hears grunts and shuffles, and he realises that there is not only El-Sayed in this room but also another person. He checks his tiny thermographical camera and indeed, there are two people. The other one must be The Ominous Sixth Person.

Richard grunts in frustration and quietly sneaks toward the two people. The closer he gets the more obvious it becomes that they are fighting. The taller person has El-Sayed in a headlock and it looks like he is pressing a gun to his temple – and Richard can’t allow that. He needs El-Sayed alive after all, so he uses the moment of surprise and jumps at the tall man, knocking the pistol out of his hand with a targeted punch to his wrist.

El-Sayed wriggles free, coughing and choking, and Richard is on the other guy in a second, punching him in the face – not too gently, and trying to gain the upper hand. The stranger is wearing a mask made out of black fabric, and Richard rips it off him, hears the tearing of the material – and pauses. It’s the man he has seen in town so many times, the one that has a room in the same hotel as him. The tall one, with the brown hair, the one reminding him of Jacob Greene. Judging by the look on the stranger’s face, he recognises Richard, too.

“Who _are_ you?” he whispers, tugging him closer to his face by his collar. “And what on earth are you doing here?”

“I’m with the fucking CIA, man,” the man hisses quietly. He’s American. Richard can tell from his accent. “Now get the fuck away from me!”

Richard immediately lets go, a little taken aback. He had not expected someone from the CIA being after Black Fall as well, though it is only logical. The terror cell _has_ threatened Washington after all. He looks around quickly and has to see that El-Sayed has escaped while he and the American agent were fighting. “Bollocks,” Richard curses and sets off to run towards the northern door – the only way El-Sayed could have gone without them noticing. He leaves the CIA agent standing in the room, not giving a fuck what happens to him. He has ruined his mission, and he now has to do his best to make it right again.

He follows the hallways down to a balcony, but El-Sayed is not there. Richard peers down over the railing. It’s not that steep, the leader of Black Fall must have jumped down and fled from there. Richard curses again and kicks at the wall, then climbs over the balcony and jumps down as well. He cushions the fall by bending his knees a little, then stares at the ground. It’s dark, but the moon shines bright enough for him to see a set of footprints. He supposes they can only be from El-Sayed, so he immediately picks up speed again and follows the trail to the front door of the house.

What Richard doesn’t expect, though, are the three guards awaiting him there. He recognises one of them to be a man he has knocked out just a few minutes before, and he apparently has organised some reinforcement. Richard stops dead in his tracks and starts to back away, but they are on him in a matter of seconds.

Richard receives a blow to the jaw and due to the force of it, he bites his own bottom lip, can taste his own blood, and when one of the guards kicks him in his shins and then his stomach, he goes limp and they manage to drag him to a car and drive off.

~*~

The drive is a long one, and Richard doesn’t know where they are going, and frankly, he doesn’t care. He can’t escape anyway, so he decides it would be for the best to simply play along and to think of a witty idea later on.

They have pulled a cotton bag over his head, and put a dirty handkerchief in his mouth to gag him, his hands and ankles are tied together as well. Every bump on the road makes his body jump up and back down again, and the pressure on his spine hurts. A lot. He can’t help but groan.

The most terrible thing, however, is that he can feel another person in the back of the car. They don’t move, and the breathing has slowed down as well. That person is probably unconscious, knocked out, sedated, something like that.

After what seems to be an eternity, the car comes to a halt. Two men drag out the still limp body from the other person, Richard can hear it. The person grunts. Ten minutes later, it’s Richard’s turn. The guards return and drag Richard out of the vehicle and towards a house, a shabby old stone building. They push him inside forcefully and down some stairs. The basement is dimly lit, but he can clearly see iron bars on one side, and – El-Sayed on the other.

Richard spits on the ground and glares at him.

“Welcome, welcome,” the leader of Black Fall says with a sickly-sweet voice. “Welcome, my dear friend who wanted to kill me.”

_I didn’t. That was the other guy_ , Richard thinks but doesn’t say. Better not argue with this man now. He has escaped his reach before, and he has taken him a captive, so Richard knows better than to put up a fight.

El-Sayed’s smile is still plastered to his face. In the yellow light, Richard can see his face properly for the first time. He is a tall man, not quite as tall as Richard, and slim but well-toned with broad shoulders. He has a sharp face with a defined jawline, a beard that covers his chin and cheeks, and his nose is hooked at the tip a little. Richard can’t possibly say how old he is, maybe in his late 30s, he guesses. His hair is turning grey a little, however, and he is going bald at the temples. His eyes are brown yet piercing and he just seems to be so _full_ of himself that Richard spits out again.

He is not one to show disrespect very often, but he is just so pissed off. The bloody American, the heat, this arrogant bastard of a terror cell leader. It’s just too much.

El-Sayed’s smile falters. “I think our buddy here needs to learn a little more respect. Throw him into the cell.”

Richard doesn’t fight the guards as the violently shove him into the cell and slam the door shut. He just walks up, grabs the iron bars and looks straight into El-Sayed’s eyes. “I’ll get you,” he growls, but the only response is a pitiful smile from El-Sayed.

“I’d like to see you try.” And with that, El-Sayed leaves, walking to the right and down some stairs, and Richard realises that he isn’t even on the lowest floor yet, and he feels sick with the thought of being locked up in here.

He exhales with a shudder, then sinks down on his knees. Reality starts kicking in for the first time this night now, and for once, he doesn’t know what to do.

“I see I’ve got a fucking room mate now.”

Richard’s head snaps up at the cold voice that comes from behind him. He quickly turns and sees the American leaning against the prison wall, arms crossed in front of his chest, glaring at him with a deadly stare.

“This isn’t gonna be funny, mate,” he mumbles, and Richard finds that he has to agree with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lee finally said something to Richard in this chapter, and did not just happen to be in his hotel. But now the story will go on, very dark, very sad. Next chapter will probably be up on Saturday next week. :'3 Hope you enjoyed all of this!


	3. No Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things happen to our boys, bad things, and the action finally starts...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, I said we'd post tomorrow. But it's Friday evening here, and why not enjoy a goodnight chapter before you go to bed? :')  
> Besides, we extended the story to 9 chapters in total because one chapter got too long and we had to split it up.  
> Thanks for all the comments and kudos, guys, you have no idea how happy you make us with that!!
> 
> Enjoy ♥

Richard is angry. Bloody _pissed off_ he is! He just can’t believe what just happened. He had organised everything so _perfectly_ , planned the whole mission so _precisely_ , and then all of a sudden that American fuckwit decides to show up and screwed up everything! He is _so_ close to give him a good whipping – and that urge just starts to rise even higher when that bloke starts to pin the blame for this whole disaster on _him_.

“You’re quite the useless newbie, aren’t you?” the American asks with a sniff. “You just burst in on my mission without thinking about it, and then you let my target escape. Which organisation hires a klutz like you, could you tell me that?!”

Richard’s hands twitched into a choking movement, as if he had his hands around the American’s throat. Richard grits his teeth loudly. The American is on the verge of ending up as a bloodied, trembling picture of misery on the floor of this dirty cell.

But before Richard can act on his anger, the door to the cell is pushed open and two guards entered, rifles pointed at them. Richard and the American lift their hands above their heads at the same time so as to not provoke the men needlessly.

The guards split up, one pushes Richard against the wall, urging him to spread his legs, and the other busies himself with Lee. Richard feels strong hands groping around his body, most likely looking for weapons of any kind – a knife, a gun, pepper spray, what have you. The man finds his little thermographical camera, throws it on the floor and crushes it with his boot. Next to him, the other guard grabs a tiny pocket knife the American must have carried and puts it in his own pockets.

When they are finally satisfied, the guards let go.

“Who are you?” one of them wants to know. He is speaking broken English, with a heavy accent. He waves his gun around a little and Richard knows it wouldn’t make sense to stay silent. He has to cooperate at least a little – for the sake of staying alive. “Richard Armitage.” They’d find out if he gave them a different name. They are not stupid.

“Assitage, more like,” the American man growls. “Richard Assitage, the huge asshole who fucks up every fucking mission.”

Before Richard can reply, the guard forces the American to say his name too, and Richard learns that he is called Lee. Lee Pace. Now he finally has a name to the face he has seen so frequently the past couple of days and that reminds him a little of his former agent Jacob Greene. The guard locks the cell door and leaves them, and for the first time, they are alone with each other.

“I didn’t fuck anything up,” Richard says with a hostile look. “Just so you know.”

“Oh you did. You _so_ did.” Pace crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You fucked up _my mission_ by randomly barging in and letting El-Sayed flee.”

“I was going to capture him but then you just started attacking me out of the blue!” Richard replies accusingly.

“Well, I didn’t know you were there! And I was gonna _kill_ _him_!” Pace yells, fists clenched. “But _noooo_ , Mr Poncy Jerk had to fucking _interrupt me_. The threats to the States would have stopped, he would’ve been _dead_ and that would’ve been _better_.”

“You know perfectly well that it wouldn’t have!” Richard screams back, throwing his arms into the air. “They would’ve found a new leader, and it would’ve simply continued!”

“Fuck this! They would’ve crowned another member king as well, had you succeeded! The boss would’ve been gone and they would’ve needed a new leader, so just _stop blaming me_ , you posh, uptight snob!”

“ _You’re_ the one who started blaming me so don’t bloody judge others by your own standards,” Richard fires back.

Pace scoffs with a snarky wave of his hand and turns away from Richard. “Your plan wouldn’t have made any difference either,” he snarls. Richard sighs and kicks at the wall closest to him. He stubs his big toe. And, God, he is so, so angry.

“But we could have at least gained some important information from him. And with them we would have learned more about the organised terror, for God’s sakes!” Richard spits out. “You Americans are so clever all the time, aren’t you? You should have _known_ that we’re interested in information on Black Fall!” He shakes his head reproachfully. “By the way, how did you know that El-Sayed is hiding here? We only learnt about that not too long ago, and you arrived in Qalāt at the same time with me!”

“Come on, don’t play innocent,” Pace hisses. “I bet you guys have just as many rats in the CIA as we have in your precious little MI6..”

Richard reacts a little insulted when he hears this accusation, but he can’t deny that the network of double agents is even more abstruse and confusing than a painting by Picasso. Nowadays, it would be naïve to trust someone blindly, even if it was someone from your own ranks.

“You know, I don’t give a flying fuck what your mission’s aim was! The point is that El-Sayed’s still alive and what’s even worse – so are we! Do you have the faintest idea of what they’re gonna do with us now?”

That makes Richard see reason again all of a sudden. Pace is right – they had been captured by people whose hobby is to blow up themselves, and dissect others alive. An argument about who is to blame for what is everything but appropriate now.

“You’re right,” Richard says with a sigh. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. We’re in the same boat together and we should use the time to think of a way out of here.”

Pace nods resignedly. “Exactly. D'you have any way of asking for back-up?”

“Not without a phone,” Richard replies. “Do you have a timeframe or some sort of deadline for reporting back?”

“No. Due to the lack of information about El-Sayed, I was free to do what I wanted. Up until next month, they won’t miss me at home,” Pace says with a sarcastic smile.

“Crap,” Richard curses and punches the wall with his fist in frustration. “They’ll come soon and interrogate us. We should keep our eyes and ears open and try to find out where they store their guns, how many of them are running around here and what their routine is. Then we’ll think of some way to escape, I’m sure of it.”

“Roger that, boss,” Pace says and grins ironically.

Richard simply rolls his eyes, sitting down on the ground, leaning against the wall – as far away from the American as possible.

~*~

For the next 48 hours, they are alone in their cell, only occasionally interrupted by a young girl who brings them a little water and some bread twice a day. They spend their time with glaring angrily at the other, insulting each other and moping around in silence. There is nothing else to do, after all. Their cell is incredibly small, they have a bucket instead of a toilet, and two ragged bed sheets that are neither soft nor keep them from freezing.

Only one interesting thing happens, on their second day. El-Sayed is walking around in front of their cell, talking rapidly in English. He seems to be on the phone and if Richard assumes correctly, it must be one of his men located in America. “Goddamn, you blasted idiot,” he yells, and Richard flinches involuntarily. “There is the fucking CIA after us and you didn’t _know_? For fuck’s sake, man, we’ve got a bombing planned in three weeks. How is that going to work if you don’t even know about the CIA?” At that moment, El-Sayed stares at Richard, realising he can understand him even though Richard pretends to be asleep, and hurries off. Richard can only understand “Washington”, and he realises he will have to tell Pace as soon as possible.

When they wake up on the third day, there is a guard waiting in their cell, kneeling next to Richard and smiling at him with a dangerous smile. He doesn’t say a word, just violently yanks him upwards and pushes him onto a chair that hasn’t been there the day before. Richard gets fettered to it, and then the guard does the same with Pace, securely tying him to a chair next to Richard’s.

When they are both tied to a chair, the door to their cell opens again and someone enters. “Well, guys,” he says in a sing-song voice. “Do you know who I am?”

Richard sneers. Of _course_ he knows who he is. He has seen him yesterday already, after all. He assumes that this is just some sort of power play on El-Sayed’s part.

“I am Amir El-Sayed, and you, my little friends, are my hostages.” He smiles a sickeningly sweet smile, and Richard angles his head away from him. With two large strides, El-Sayed is next to him, fingers violently grabbing his chin and forcing Richard to look at him. “That is very rude, Armitage. I thought you British people were the most polite beings in the world.”

“Yeah, well, there’s always an exception to the rule, isn’t there?” Richard replies dryly.

“Probably. I don’t like rudeness, though.” El-Sayed slaps his cheek. It burns a little, but it’s alright. He is probably testing the waters, trying to find out Richard’s limits. He won’t make it easy for El-Sayed. He can take a lot.

“What I _do_ like, however,” El-Sayed adds, “is that two people set out to kill me or catch me or whatever… failed spectacularly and have now ended up as my captives. Isn’t that funny?” His smile is fake. “Kind of amusing, don’t you think? Getting in each other’s ways? I had a good laugh. You failed, and I can keep attacking your countries.”

“Why are you doing this anyway?” Richard grits out. “All the bombings and the killings and the threats. Are you bored?”

El-Sayed laughs. “Oh, dear boy. Technically, _I_ am the one who is asking the questions, but since it’s your first day, I will put mercy before justice and answer you. However, I would have never thought you to be that naïve. No. I am not _bored_. I am taking _revenge_.”

Richard frowns.

“My country, my beautiful, amazing country, has been ravaged and destroyed by those bossy Americans who love themselves more than other people,” El-Sayed begins to explain. “They also seem to think they are better than everyone else on this whole planet. When they arrived here for the first time, I still had the hope they’d leave. But it’s 2015 now, and they are still here.” He stares at Lee angrily as if he was the one who brought all the trouble over Afghanistan himself.

“And now you want to get back at the States?” Richard asks. “But that doesn’t justify your attacking the UK as well!”

“You’re all in cahoots together,” El-Sayed spits out. “And you very well know that!” His fists clench in what seems to be a very painful motion, knuckles turning white. “This time, it will be _their_ fall.”

Richard shoots Pace a sideways glance, trying to read his expression. His lips are pressed together tightly, jaw muscles clenched. But he isn’t saying anything, looks blankly at their kidnapper. He is extremely calm, and Richard admires him for that.

“But anyway.” El-Sayed seems to have calmed down a little. He places his hands on Richard’s shoulders and digs his fingernails into his skin. Richard flinches a little at the unexpected sharp pain but keeps looking into his eyes. “My guards were so kind as to tell me your name, my dear British friend. Richard. Rrrrichard.” He plays around with Richard’s name a little, rolling the R, pronouncing it differently, and frankly, it disgusts Richard. “A very nice name, I must say. But I do not know who you work for. Mind telling me?”

Richard stares at him and keeps his mouth shut.

“No?” El-Sayed pouts. “What a shame. I really did want to talk to you like adults do. I didn’t want to force it out of you, but you leave me no choice.” With a sigh, he lets go of Richard’s shoulders and straightens himself before delivering a hard blow to Richard’s chin. He grunts in pain, moves his jaw to test if it’s still working, but he still says nothing.

“Tell me!” El-Sayed bellows, little drops of spittle falling on Richard’s face. “ _Tell me who you work for!_ ” He hits him again, the nose this time. It thankfully does not break. From the corner of his eye, Richard can see Lee jump with every hit he receives. It’s funny, he thinks, how much empathy two people who hate each other can develop in such a short time.

“Fine.” El-Sayed lets Richard be for the moment, apparently having noticed Richard watching Lee. He walks over to the American and perches down in front of him. “And you, Lee? Would you like to talk to me?”

Lee doesn’t even look at El-Sayed, he simply stares at the wall unwaveringly.

“Is that a _no_ then?” The leader of Black Fall gets up, hovering close to Lee’s face. “Do you think that this answer makes me happy?” His nose is almost touching Lee’s, and Richard feels a kind of nausea creep up from his stomach at the sight. “A clue: no, _it does not_!” El-Sayed punches Lee as well, temple, cheek, then the side of his throat. Lee chokes, and Richard’s nausea turns into anger. But since he is still tied to the chair, he cannot do anything. And that makes him even angrier. Even though he still _is_ pissed off at Lee ruining his mission – he doesn’t deserve this. Neither of them do.

El-Sayed shakes his head and tuts. “It seems to me that our friends do not want to cooperate. What a pity. Open the door,” he bellows to one of his guards. The door opens and another soldier walks in, dragging a young woman with him. She’s crying but she doesn’t scream.

“This,” El-Sayed says sweetly and points at the girl, “is Sharifa. You may have seen her face before.”

Of course they have. Richard recognises her. She’s the young servant lady who has brought them their food and water so far. She had always smiled at him shyly, she seemed to be a nice girl. Richard didn’t like where El-Sayed was going with this. Not a little bit.

“Soooo.” The boss of the terror cell brings his fingertips together and smirks. “I would advise you two to talk, or Sharifa is going to lose her fingers. One by one. Do we want that? A clue: no, we don’t,” he says in a mocking voice. “So _talk_ ,” he booms and pounds down on the table with his fist. “You first, American boy. Who do you work for?”

Lee clenches his jaw, lips pressed tightly together. He stares into El-Sayed’s eyes intently, and he is not going to give him any information.

“Talk,” El-Sayed orders again in a dangerously low voice, and when Lee shakes his head, he pulls out a knife. Sharifa let’s out a shriek. “What a pity. On the count of three, I’m going to cut off her index finger. Although – let’s play with some higher stakes, shall we? I’ll cut off her _hand_.”

“No. No, please,” Sharifa begs but El-Sayed slaps her and tells her to be quiet. Then he turns to his captives again and repeats his question.

Lee still doesn’t say a word.

“One,” El-Sayed counts, drawling out the number. The knife hovers dangerously close over the Sharifa’s small hands. She’s crying.

“Two,” he says and Richard shoots Lee a look. He can see he’s struggling with himself but he has to be strong now. They _can’t_ let El-Sayed know who they are, they absolutely _cannot_. That would endanger not only the people he already threatened to kill but also all the others involved with the CIA and the MI6.

“Two and a half,” El-Sayed sing-songs and breaks the girl’s skin with his knife. “Come on, boys. You don’t want Sharifa to serve you food with her feet, now, do you?”

“Fuck this,” Lee mutters under his breath and before Richard knows what’s going on, Lee is already gritting out an answer: “I’m working with the CIA.”

The knife disappears.

Sharifa exhales shakily.

“Why, was that so hard, my American friend?” El-Sayed teases with a smirk. He pats Lee’s cheek thrice. “Good boy.” Then he turns to Richard. “And since I am not as stupid as you take me for, I assume you, my dear British ray of sunshine, must be working with the MI6. Correct?”

Richard stares at him, not replying.

“Well then.” El-Sayed sighs dramatically. “I had hoped not to do this again but -” He moves quickly, seizing Sharifa and holding the knife to her throat.

“No!” she screams, eyes wide with fear.

“ _Do something_!” Lee bellows and Richard is torn between not answering for his colleagues’ sake and giving El-Sayed what he wants to save the girl. “He knows anyway, just fucking _save her life_!” Somehow, Lee’s voice gets through to him and something in Richard clicks.

“Okay, fine,” he yells, “I’m with the fucking MI6!”

He hears Lee exhale, and he knows he has just saved the girl, but he also knows how much damage this might bring to his organisation back at home. His stomach turns at the thought.

Satisfied, El-Sayed lets Sharifa go. The girl runs away as quickly as she can.

Lee slumps back against the backrest of his chair and Richard watches him exhale. “She reminded me of my sister,” Lee whispers when Richard doesn’t look away. “I couldn’t … I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.”

Richard’s lips form a silent _oh_.

“Well, well, well,”El-Sayed say and claps his hands together. “So my American friend seems to be easily compromised when someone he likes is in danger. I’m sure I can make good use of that.” He smiles at them sweetly, then winks at them, and it makes Richard sick. “Anyhow. Guards, untie them.”

~*~

They sit on opposite sides for a long while, the silence between them becoming more uncomfortable by the second. Richard keeps shooting shy glances at Lee, biting his lip. He somehow wants to talk to him, make things right between them because – well, they were stuck here together for who knows how long. The least they could do is interact on a friendly basis.

He fights with his inner self for a while but eventually conquers his weaker self and slowly walks over to Lee. Lee looks up at him with a frown but scoots aside to make space for Richard. He doesn’t complain when Richard sits down next to him.

“How are you?” Richard begins to break the uncomfortable silence. “I mean, in this circumstance. Are you still in pain? Is everything okay? Oh God, I’m babbling bullshit, I’m sorry.” He runs a hand over his face and sighs.

Surprisingly, Lee laughs. “I’m okay, I guess. Thanks. You?”

“Same.”

Neither of them says anything else for a bit until Lee inhales sharply. “Listen, man, I’m sorry. For yelling at you earlier. About the mission. I mean I’m still pretty pissed off that I couldn’t kill that son of a bitch, but you didn’t know about the mission. Shouldn’t have blamed you. Really, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Richard replies, fiddling with the fabric of his trousers. “Same goes for me. I overreacted. It wasn’t your fault. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, I s'pose.”

“Yeah.”

“Guess we got off on the wrong foot, eh?” Richard huffs a laugh and is relieved when Lee joins in. Richard turns a little so that he can face Lee and holds out his right hand. “Let’s start anew, okay? Hi, I’m Richard, I’m a complete idiot who wants to apologise and get on the right track with you. Nice to meet you.”

Lee looks at Richard’s hand with a confused look, then up at his eyes and he is fully looking at Richard for the first time since they’ve met. He studies Richard’s face for a bit, then his expression lights up a little and he grabs Richard’s hand firmly, shaking it and holding on to it a little longer than necessary. “I’m Lee, I’m the most choleric person in this room, and I’m sorry, too. And since you’re my flatmate now, I do hope you forgive me.”

“I do,” Richard says with a grin and squeezes Lee’s hand to emphasise it.

They let go of their hands and smile at each other, genuinely, and Richard has the feeling that something at least improved a little.

“And I have to agree with you,” Lee continues. “Getting that son of a bitch alive is better than killing him. I mean, we’ve got pretty nasty ways of making people sing over the pond as well. We could’ve made him talk, too.”

Richard slaps his hands on his thighs as if to agree. “Well, that’s why that was my plan from the beginning. We knew they might find a new leader, but we could have taken the whole network down with El-Sayed’s information.”

“We can still get him, though, can’t we?” Lee asks, looking at Richard in earnest.

Richard frowns. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” He sounds really excited now. “We just need to find a way out of here. And then we capture him, take him back to either the UK or the States and then have him questioned.”

“You really think we’ll make it out of here?” His scepticism gives Richard’s usually so certain voice a slight trembling. “Because I don’t think we will.”

“But why not?” Lee sounds confused. “We’re both fully trained agents, we have tons of experience. Why shouldn’t we be able to escape?”

“Because,” Richard says simply, “there’s loads of armed guards out there who aren’t afraid to shoot us. We have nothing on us except our bare hands, and those guys are intent on breaking us. Both physically and mentally. We won’t be strong enough to knock ‘em out. Much as I’d like to.”

“Hm.” Lee stares at the floor gloomily. “That’s not fair. We’ll make it out. Somehow.”

“If we live long enough.”

“Don’t be so pessimistic,” Lee scolds him. “We’ve gotta fight. I won’t let myself be broken by some… some amateur terror network!”

“Your anger seems to be blinding you,” Richard says with a weak smile. “The cell might be new, but El-Sayed is not an amateur at all. He knows exactly what to do and who to kill and how to push people’s buttons. We’re screwed, Lee, and we’ve got to face it.”

Lee rubs a hand over his face. “But… but how are we going to get out of here?”

“Wait for the MI6 to rescue us. Or the CIA, mind.” Richard sighs. “But other than that, we’re pretty much helpless.”

Lee looks at him, blinks, then turns to look away, not sharing his view on the matter. But then he shuffles around and suddenly sits so close to Richard that their thighs are pressing together, looking at him imploringly. “But you can’t give up now,” he states. “We might not get out _yet_ but there’s loads of other options for us!”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“See… We don’t yet know how many guards are running around here but what we could do is call one of them for help, then knock them out here, tie them up with our clothes and wait until another one comes to check. We’ll also bring that one down, and so on and so forth. We’re two grown men. That’ll be child’s play,” Lee explains.

“Right. Doesn’t sound too bad – we can only hope they don’t carry their guns with them at all times,” Richard says. He has to admit, there is a flicker of hope starting to grow inside him. This plan actually sounds like it could work. It would just need a little planning – but they’d have enough time in their cell anyway.

“ _Or_ ,” Lee continues, “we could sort of play both ends against the middle. Tell Guard A that Guard B said he’s a pisshead or something.”

“I prefer the other plan,” Richard says with a laugh.

Lee is getting really excited now. “Or we could take them down when they walk us to a different room, or back from it. Just attack them out of the blue. Kick the guns away or grab them for ourselves. Shoot 'em down, get El-Sayed, and get the hell outta here.”

Richard ponders this for a moment. “If we work together we could maybe do this.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Lee agrees with enthusiasm. “And just _think_ what a great source of information this whole capture thing could prove to be! If we listen to the guards talk or ask the right questions, we could get inside information, too. We just mustn’t give up. We have to keep quiet about our organisations and our missions as far as possible, and we’ll be _fine_!” He squeezes Richard’s shoulder at the last word.

“Speaking of information… I listened to El-Sayed babbling along on the phone on our second day here,” Richard says, remembering. Lee looks at him in interest. “You were snoring away and I pretended to be asleep but he said something about the CIA being after Black Fall.”

“So he must have talked to one of his American henchmen.”

“Just what I thought,” Richard agrees. “And apparently, they want to bomb up Washington in three weeks or something.”

“Oh crap,” Lee says. “We’ve gotta tell the CIA quickly then.” He rubs a hand over his face, then smirks at Richard. “See. Another reason why we’ll get outta here. Because we’re awesome agents who have to give important information to their organisations.”

Richard looks up at him and grins. “I like your way of thinking, Mr Pace.” The world is looking much better now.

Lee reciprocates the smile. “Cheers! We’re allies now, right? In this together? Teammates, cellmates, friends, eh?” He extends a hand. “Let’s shake on it!”

Richard grabs his hand for the second time today, and it’s still as warm and soft and gentle as it was the first time. “Friends,” he repeats with a happy feeling in his chest.

They settle into a comfortable silence, both thinking about a way out, but Richard finds himself wanting to get to know Lee a little better. “So,” Richard tries to keep the conversation going. “You’ve got a sister then? Because when Sharifa was there, you said…”

Lee nods. “Yeah. And a brother. And that young woman – her eyes. She… All I could see was my sister. I … I think I kind of … overreacted.”

Richard shakes his head. “No. It’s alright. You saved her. That’s all that matters. El-Sayed would’ve found out our organisations anyway. He isn’t stupid.”

“Maybe.” Lee sighs. “Do you have any siblings, then?” he asks after a while.

“A brother, yeah,” Richard replies with a sad smile and looks away. “He and my parents are the only ones I left behind, safe in the UK.”

Richard hears Lee turn his head, his hair creating a silent, oddly comforting noise on the stone wall. “No friends? No partner?”

“No.” Richard shakes his head, staring at the ceiling. “I think it’s safer to not have close friends with the job I do. Besides, I barely have time to meet them, anyway. Always busy, always in another country.”

“Mmh,” Lee hums. “I understand. Still though, I think I’d like to have a partner again. Someone who understands. It’s nice to have this kind of lover’s comfort at night, you know? Someone to hug when you just need… need to feel human warmth. To know you’re not broken and alone.”

“Are you single, too, then?” Richard wants to know.

“Yeah. Not necessarily by choice, though.” Lee huffs a laugh. “Seems like no-one wants anything to do with me.”

“Weird. Would’ve thought all the girls were after you.” Richard scratches his nose. As good as he is when it comes to interrogating criminals, getting to know a person privately was a wholly different thing.

“I’m not exactly a girl’s person, you know?” Lee says with a wink and busies himself intently with his fingernails.

“Oh.” Richard can’t stop his heart from beating a little faster.

“Yeah.”

“Me neither.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Richard coughs awkwardly, wondering if that was too much information already. After all, they had just made their peace a few minutes ago.

But when Lee looks at him and wriggles his eyebrows cheekily, starting to laugh, Richard knows he truly is forgiven and joins the laughter.

~*~

The next morning, just after Sharifa has brought them a small cup of water and a hard, dry bread crust, El-Sayed comes to visit them. He doesn’t say anything, just points at Richard and motions for him to come to the door. He obeys – either he goes on his own or the guards will take him. He feels Lee’s hand hesitantly curling in the hem of his shirt, as if wanting to hold him back, but he ignores it.

“What?” he growls.

“We’re going to take you for a little walk,” El-Sayed replies with a smile, opens the door and pulls Richard out before closing it again. A guard immediately captures his hands and pushes him to the right. There are three armed guards, Richard notices, all here to make sure he won’t escape. They walk a few steps down the hall before they stop in front of a closed door. Probably another of El-Sayed’s torture chambers. He seems to have an awful lot of them.

“What do you want with me?” Richard asks, trying to wriggle free. The iron grip on both his neck and hands makes this impossible, though, and he knows better than to kick the guard in the shins. There are three men with guns around him, he would not stand a chance.

“Well, sweetie,” El-Sayed chirps, “you might be aware of the fact that I run a terror cell. And I have attacks to plan and execute. See, the thing is, since both the MI6 and the CIA are trying to take down Black Fall, I need to learn exactly what they already know. And then, I will plan my next attacks accordingly. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Richard _harrumph_ s. He doesn’t say that the terror attacks don’t make sense in the first place.

One of the guards, a small man with a beard reaching down to his chest, opens the door to a room adjacent to Richard and Lee’s cell. Richard is shoved inside and pushed down on a chair. His ankles get tied to two chair legs and his wrists are forced behind his back and around the back rest of the chair. The guard who opened the door wraps another rope around them, then goes to stand beside the door, weapon at the ready.

El-Sayed claps his hands. “Since we already had a short talk on the way here, you know what I’m going to ask you next, right?” He walk to Richard’s left side, wraps an arm around him, cheek to cheek. “So. What does the MI6 know about me? And Black Fall?”

“Nothing.”

“You might have not understood my question. What. Does the MI6. Know about Black Fall?” El-Sayed puts more emphasis on his every word, trying to sound intimidating. But Richard has seen way too much in his life to be scared of _him_.

“Nothing.”

El-Sayed tries to force the answer out of him for a good hour, using his fists and his legs, having his guards punch Richard as well. One time, one of them even fires a warning shot. Richard still doesn’t answer. They would have to bring the big guns in to make him talk.

“Our little bird doesn’t want to chirp,” El-Sayed says after he has had enough, pouting. “Shall we find another… argument to make him sing?” He starts smiling mischievously, and motions one of his guards to step closer, whispering something into his ear. The man nods, then rushes out of the room. He returns only a few moments later – dragging Lee with him.

 _No_.

Richard knows what they are up to, and he starts fidgeting around on his chair. “Don’t do this, El-Sayed,” he growls as he sees Lee’s face turn as pale as a sheet.

There it is, the big gun that will break his will.

El-Sayed sniggers in response. “Oh _ooo_ , have I struck a chord there? That is just what I wanted. Brilliant.” He orders the guard to tie Lee’s hands and ankles with a rope too, then has him kneeling down on the floor so that he faces Richard, a gap of about two metres between them. So close and yet so far.

“And if my British bird doesn’t sing a little tune now,” El-Sayed says, “ _this_ will happen.” He flicks his wrist once and one of the guards hits Lee in the face, right across his left cheek. He grunts, spits, then turns his head and looks back at Richard. There is a strange calmness in his eyes that leaves Richard with an ugly feeling. It seems like Lee has accepted his fate, knowing that Richard would never give any information about the MI6 voluntarily. It seems like he is okay with the fact that El-Sayed’s men don’t shy away from violent tasks, and he knows that they will probably beat him to unconsciousness – or even further.

And Richard _cannot_ accept that _Lee_ has accepted this.

If there was a way to protect him, to get him out of this, Richard would immediately do so. But he is still tied to a chair, and that’s a fact, and he can’t get up and free Lee, and that’s a fact as well.

Oh, how Richard _hates_ facts sometimes.

“I’m not going to tell you anything, El-Sayed, just _accept_ that!” he bellows, his voice a deep rumble in his chest. His heart is pounding, his blood racing. That might have been the wrong thing to say.

Dangerously slowly, El-Sayed turns to face Richard again. “You do realise that this will have consequences?” He scoffs scornfully and reaches into his right pocket. A flash of hot fear spikes through Richard’s body. ’ _He still has the knife he threatened Sharifa with in there_ ,’ he realises.

Painfully slowly, El-Sayed takes the knife out and runs his finger tip along the sharp blade. Then, with one last look at Richard, he turns around to Lee, stepping next to him and putting the tip of the knife on his nose. He ponders this for a minute, then changes his decision and places the blade on Lee’s cheek, and _cuts_.

Blood wells up from the wound immediately. Lee’s eyes are squeezed shut, and Richard’s fingers twitch nervously. The side of his right middle finger hurts – usually does, when someone else is in pain. He can feel his heart beat in his throat, his nostrils widen angrily.

“Will you talk now?” El-Sayed asks, but Richard again doesn’t reply. Black Falls’s leader nods, and a guard punches Lee immediately. _At least it’s not another cut_ , Richard thinks, allowing himself to exhale. When he sees the look on El-Sayed’s face, though, he knows showing relief was a mistake.

El-Sayed grabs hold of his knife and goes to Lee again. This time, he receives a cut just above his right eyebrow. He groans and his chest is heaving, and Richard clenches his fists. He desperately wants to jump up and take Lee’s place. The poor man has been through too much already, and Richard sees that he will not last much longer before he passes out from the sheer pain. They might be terribly close to breaking him, and he can’t, he _won’t_ let that happen. He wriggles on his chair, still trying to loosen the ropes around his wrists but a guard catches him doing it and hits his face hard.

“I am going to ask you one more time, because I am so nice,” El-Sayed says with a smile. “What does the MI6 know about Black Fall?”

“Nothing,” Richard spits out.

Lee receives another punch to the head. He makes a retching noise, the pain is getting too much for him now. Richard’s eyes flicker back and forth between Lee and the boss of the terror cell.

El-Sayed sighs. “This is getting rather tedious with the two of you.” He shakes his head, then suddenly turns, taking two large strides, and he is right in Richard’s face, staring at him like a snake at its prey. “Tell me what you know,” he orders him in a dangerous whisper.

Richard looks away, at Lee and El-Sayed takes a step back. “Second thoughts about loyalty?” he asks with a smirk. “You don’t want your new best buddy to suffer, do you? Well, your heart certainly is in the right place. Now _tell_ me.”

Richard locks eyes with Lee, blinking rapidly in a certain rhythm. It’s Morse code, each blink either long or short, the grammar is horrible, but he hopes Lee picks up on this and understands. _I tell. No hurt you._

“Blinking the tears away already?” El-Sayed claps his hands together. “Oh, this is just too beautiful.”

Richard repeats the blinking. He’s sending out mental prayers directed at Lee. _'Come on, Lee. Understand this. Please. Respond.’_

Endless seconds pass, and then Lee reacts.

He shakes his head once from side to side slowly. He blinks. Once long, once short, thrice long. _No_. His eyes are staring intently at Richard, his facial expression set in determination. It’s like he wants to tell him not to give in because he can take it.

Richard keeps looking at Lee as he answers, “The MI6 knows nothing of importance.” And that is not even a lie – _he_ knows a lot more now, that is true, but the MI6 has no idea about the terror cell. Richard hasn’t had a chance to report back to them, obviously, so the only thing they know is the name and the location.

Fury flashes behind El-Sayed’s eyes, turns around to face Lee and hits his jaw with a force that some blood flies through the room and lands on the floor. Lee’s mouth is covered in blood, he’s hunched over and he’s whimpering. El-Sayed doesn’t care, however. “If your friend is not going to talk,” he yells, “I’m going to make _you_ scream!” He grabs Lee’s shoulders hard, pushes him violently on the ground, kicks him twice in the rips and knees him in the stomach. Lee is gasping and crying and screaming, and Richard is screaming too and he wants Lee to be _left alone_ but he can’t _do_ anything and he starts kicking helplessly, knocking the chair – and himself – over.

El-Sayed keeps abusing Lee for several minutes. Kicks his legs and his knees and he over-stretches his joints. He has a guard hold his legs in place, then forces Lee’s head down to his thighs and Richard can feel the pain Lee must be feeling, and El-Sayed seems to enjoy this oh so much. When he is finally done, Lee is lying on the ground, eyes swollen shut, chest heaving rapidly.

“Still no answer for me?” El-Sayed hisses and when Richard shakes his head again, despite his better judgement, the leader of Black Fall nods, goes back to Lee, and kicks Lee’s temple.

Lee blacks out.

Richard screams.

Regardless of Lee’s wounds, El-Sayed orders his guards to take Richard and the unconscious Lee back to their cell. Lee is pulled along at his ankles, head dragging over the hard floor. Richard winces, knowing that there will be much more bruises on his head now, but he can’t do anything. Back in the cell, they are left to deal with this on their own – the guards follow El-Sayed outside without untying Richard first. Lee, still bleeding, is still lying on the floor.

Richard somehow manages to get the ropes off, he doesn’t know how, he just does, and he immediately runs over to Lee to inspect the wounds and tries to clean them.

It’s in this moment that realisation finally kicks in – they are so utterly, utterly helpless.

~*~

The first thing that Lee notices when he regains consciousness is a sickening headache, as if someone was ramming a sharp knife into his skull repeatedly. He groans, and it hurts. His throat is dry, so is his mouth and he licks his chapped lips reflexively. His eyes blink open slowly, his vision is still blurred, but there is something – or some _one_ hovering over him.

A relieving drop of coolness drips onto his blazing forehead and Lee is tempted to close his eyes again, but a voice keeps him from dozing off. “Oh no, you’re going to stay awake now.” There is no threat in the voice, it sounds calm and a little amused, and it seems familiar to Lee’s ears.

“Hey now,” the voice murmurs again, gently pinching his right cheek. Lee grunts in protest. “Get up, sleepyhead. Admire my work. Haven’t I tended perfectly well to your wounds?” The person pokes Lee’s nose non too gently and rubs a wet cloth all over his face.

He really _is_ awake now, and his brain is starting to boot up, too. He blinks several times, then focusses on the other person and finally recognises Richard.

“Morning,” he says with a grin and wipes a strand of hair from Lee’s forehead. “Slept well?”

“Shut up,” Lee mumbles and tries to sit up, but his head starts complaining, so he lies back down again.

“You’re making my legs go dead,” Richard states, and it’s only then that Lee realises he is lying on Richard’s lap.

“’m sorry,” he murmurs but doesn’t make a move to get up. Richard just laughs and allows him to stay where he is.

“Are you okay, Lee?” He sounds concerned all of a sudden. “You did get a fair share of punches after all.”

“Head hurts,” he answers, “and my stomach too, a little. But other than that, I seem to be good. Not as bad as expected.”

“Glad to hear that.” Richard runs his fingers over one of Lee’s fresh wounds on his temple. Lee flinches, but not in pain. The touch is something he didn’t expect, Richard’s finger so careful and tender on his skin. Something flutters inside him, and he later realises that it was his heart. He sighs contently and hears Richard laugh.

“How are you, then? They got you pretty bad, too, didn’t they?” Lee looks up at Richard, taking in the bruises and cuts he received from several blows to the head.

“Yeah, well. I’m a strong guy. I’m fine.” He winks at Lee.

Lee moves to sit up, but immediately feels dizzy, so Richard pushes him back down and orders him to keep lying down. “Don’t make light of this,” Lee says quietly. “I know you’re strong, but even you are just human. You have to take care of your own wounds.”

“It’s nice of you to worry about me,” Richard replies with a smile. “Really. But I’ve been through worse before. I know what my limits are – and given the circumstances, I’m really okay.”

Lee sighs. “If you say so.” His lids are about to flutter close again.

“I do. And now you’d better get some more sleep.”

“Didn’t you say I should get up just a few seconds ago?” Lee wonders.

“I did,” Richard admits. “But you are obviously still tired. And the body wants what’s best for it. Doze off, now. I’ll wake you when they want to hurt us again.”

Lee laughs at that even though it’s a harsh, dark joke. But a scathing humour is the only thing that can keep them sane in this situation. “Fine, Mr I Can’t Make Up My Mind. Goodnight.”

“Don’t snore,” Richard warns him playfully and Lee punches him lightly in the chest.

“Shu’ up,” he murmurs drowsily, snuggling a little closer to Richard’s belly and closing his eyes before he snoozes off. He can still feel Richard’s fingers, though, as they take up their journey over Lee’s face again, gently tracing his eyebrows, his nose, his cheeks, his brow, his lips. It’s a kind of light massage, and it’s so relaxing and it lulls him to sleep in only a matter of seconds.

~*~

Richard watches Lee dozing with a slight smile on his lips. Bruised and battered, but still alive and still breathing – it’s a nice sight in all this destruction and pain. Besides, Lee really does look adorable when he sleeps, Richard decides. He mainly adores the little bump in Lee’s nose, and how his long eyelashes flutter against his cheek when his pupils move behind closed lids.

He has the feeling that the talk really brought them closer, and the fact that Lee was trusting him enough to fall asleep in his arms was proof enough of that. They really had no other chance to get through this but to team up, and teaming up they did. They created a small bond of friendship in the past few hours, and Richard found himself glad about this.

He runs his fingers through Lee’s hair once more, gently massaging the scalp, and a little smile tugs at Lee’s lips. ’ _He looks so peaceful_.’ With his hand still in Lee’s hair, Richard allows himself to fall asleep as well. He sleeps surprisingly well and relaxed, and when he wakes up later, he feels well rested. He assumes he slept about five hours and he sighs happily. Lee is still asleep, and Richard watches him silently again, continuing to run his fingers through his hair.

But that changes the second someone bangs a gun against the bars of their cell door.

Lee is startled into waking up, and he quickly sits up to sit next to Richard. A slight blush creeps up to his cheeks, but his eyes are fixed on the door and the man in front of it.

“Hello, my favourite captives!” El-Sayed beams and opens the door, entering with two of his guards. They are familiar faces to Richard now – they seem to be the only henchmen El-Sayed trusts enough to take them with him all the time.

“What do you want?” Lee asks, his voice rough and stressed but nonetheless aggressive.

“Now, now, Lee, don’t be like that,” El-Sayed scolds him. “I come in peace. I’m going to give you one last chance to avoid worse consequences,” he says, arms wide open. “Am I not one gracious human being?”

Richard looks at Lee. They exchange uncertain looks – what could possibly be worse than what they already have to go through?

“So. Have you two love birds changed your attitude then? Want to talk to me now?”

Ignoring the nickname, Richard just looks at him and says, “No. And we never will.”

“Incommunicado it is, then,” El-Sayed says quietly. “You’ve had your choice, Richard. Don’t come to me complaining about this. Take my American friend into the basement. See that he suffers.” And with a wink he leaves the cell, and Lee is yanked up by one of the guards and pushed out of the door violently.

At the door, Lee turns his head to look at Richard, and there is fear in his eyes. Nothing but naked fear. Fear of what will come, fear of starving, fear of pain. Fear of not returning.

“ _No_!” Richard yells in protest, instinctively raising his right arm as if he wanted to grab Lee and hold him back. But it’s pointless. Lee is hauled out of the cell, his eyes never leaving Richard’s.

When Lee is gone, Richard breaks down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you guess which person I had in mind when writing El-Sayed? :')


	4. Separated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lee is kept alone in a cell, with only his thoughts and darkness to keep him company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read the warnings and the tags, because this chapter is where it gets really really disturbing. :/  
> Thanks for all the lovely comments and all the kudos, we're ever so honoured!!! Enjoy!

Lee doesn’t know where they’re taking him. Basement, they said. Somewhere down in the ground, then. _Brilliant. Just when I thought this fucking thing couldn’t get better._ Lee’s hands are tied together on his back, he is forced to walk hunched over, and it hurts. But it’s nothing compared to what is likely going to follow. The way down the stairs is dark and steep and tight, he is falling down rather than actually walking.

He cannot stop thinking about Richard – the way he looked at him when they ushered him out of the cell. Lee isn’t quite sure if that was worry in his eyes.

But he hasn’t much time to dwell on this, he is being pushed forward mercilessly.

It’s dark down in the basement. Lee still can’t quite understand how it can be so cold in the middle of a goddamn desert.

They lead him into a small room, forcing him to kneel. To make sure he doesn’t flee, a guard – a giant of a man – grabs his neck and keeps him down that way. He is about as tall as Lee, a rare sight as it is, but he is twice as broad – and probably ten times uglier. Besides, he is stinking like hell and that stench is enough to make Lee almost retch. That really was a way of torture he had not known of so far.

Behind him, another man enters the room. He is small, almost delicate, but a certain evilness radiates from his every pore – and it makes the other men in the room shut up and stand still. ’ _Afraid of him, then_ ’, Lee realises.

The giant of a man yanks his head upward, tugging at his hair violently, so the small man is able to see Lee’s face. He stands right in front of his detainee and looks down at him with twinkling eyes. A smile plays around his lips and it sends a shiver down Lee’s back.

“Greetings, my friend!” His English is accent free and has a certain Texan drawl to it, and Lee wonders if he might have grown up in the States. “My name is Jalal. How may I call you?”

’ _The-One-Whose-Foot-Will-Be-Up-Your-Arse-Soon_ ,’ Lee thinks but doesn’t say. It’s not professional to lower oneself to the mental level of a terrorist. And it’s dangerous, at that. So he stays quiet and simply blinks at him stupidly – Jalal probably knows his name anyway. El-Sayed most likely told him, Lee supposes.

Jalal ignores that annoyed gesture. “I know you’re Lee, so don’t even try to hide that from me,” he growls and then changes the topic. “You belong to the CIA, eh?” Jalal asks. Lee rolls his eyes – he’s got enough of these tedious questions. “How come that you Americans know our hideout? Who dimed us out, eh?”

Yes, definitely the States, then. _To dime someone out_ isn’t a phrase Lee has ever heard in another country. Good to know.

“Twitter,” Lee says with a slight shrug. He really couldn’t hold back the sassy reply, it is his nature after all. He knows it probably wasn’t the best idea, it could have provoked the man. _But_ , he decides, _if anyone ever asks me about my reasoning for this answer, I’ll tell them the toxic evaporations of the other guy stopped my brain from functioning properly_.

The man smiles and steps aside a little.

It’s only then that Lee takes notice of the table at the wall. Next to it he spies a bowl full of black as pitch charcoals. ’ _A makeshift radiator, maybe_ ,’ he thinks but then almost has to laugh when he realises how stupid that thought was.

Since he is kneeling on the floor, he cannot quite see what’s on the table, but he has a terrifying assumption.

The small man walks up to the table and draws some circles on it absent-mindedly, like children sometimes do. After a little while, he makes a decision and grabs something made of silver and starts to rattle with it. He turns, showing Lee what he has got here – a nail clipper.

“My dear friend,” he says quietly, “you should be aware of the fact that you are going to die in this very room. And that the way to your death will be a very long one. The way is the goal, eh? And I will be your guide on this way, just like I’ve been a guide for so many guys before you.” He clicks his fingers and a guard – not the giant – rushes up to him and hands him some pictures. Jalal holds them out so Lee can see them.

They are photos of four men, one beheaded, one shot, one just the torso with all the limbs missing and one having fallen victim to incineration. The photos are disgusting, and detailed, and Lee has to turn his head away. He is feeling sick, and it’s all he can do to keep himself from retching up whatever is left in his stomach.

Jalal smiles. “This could be you, too, if you do not cooperate, Lee.”

Lee usually never gives a flying fuck when he hears speeches like this – and he had heard many in his life as an agent – but Jalal’s calmness and the pitiful look of the huge guard give him a queasy feeling.

“Usually, I leave my guests down here a choice. They can decide how long their dying time will be. See, it’s pretty simple. The more you tell me about what the CIA knows about us, the sooner you die. And the more you refuse to cooperate, well, the more body parts you will lose before we let our dogs loose to feast on you. And that can take a little while – I studied medicine in the States, and I know exactly how to keep you alive, despite mutilating you.”

Lee growls. He is more than angry and ashamed that this bastard had been in his home land for quite some time.

Jalal’s expression grows angry. He bellows an order to one of the guards behind Lee, and a sudden fierce pain shoots through the back of his head when the fist of the giant man hits him. Stars dance in front of his eyes, and before he can react, Lee finds himself lying on the ground. The guards around him start kicking him. Lee tries to resist, to fight back, but his fetters keep him from doing so. Everything he can do was doubling up to protect his front a little. One last kick to his head almost makes him lose consciousness, but then he is yanked back up again and the giant has him in a headlock in just a second.

Jalal is behind Lee now, grabbing his fingers. He can feel the cold steel of the nail clipper on his skin and he is biting down on his teeth in anticipation of what is going to follow.

“Tell me the name of the one who gave us away to the CIA, you rotten bastard!”

“Think of one yourself,” Lee hisses.

Jalal grabs his ring finger, takes hold of the nail with the clipper and _pulls_. Lee’s eyes water in light of the pain, but he doesn’t scream.

“Now _talk_! Or I’ll rip out every single one of your nails, and all your fingers as well!” Jalal grips the nail of his middle finger and presses down.

Now Lee screams. He wants this to end, but he can’t even think straight, so he cannot beg for Jalal to stop. Jalal stays true to his word, rips out one finger nail after the other, the clipper skidding off on the slippery hands. Lee screams and cries and sobs, but he doesn’t talk, he _can’t_ talk.

When Lee has lost the nails of his left hand, Jalal lets go. Lee falls down on the ground, trembling and whimpering.

Jalal perches down in front of him and waves the bloodied clipper around.

“You are brave, my friend, but that will be of no use in the end. I will keep coming back for you tomorrow. Can’t wait to break your bones, slowly tear the skin of your flesh, to burn you, to drown you, until you’re _this_ close to dying.” He spreads his thumb and index finger only a little. “But remember – I know how to keep you from death and will start the torture anew every day. Now I’ll leave you to think about this a little. Maybe you want to change your attitude concerning your dying time. I, on the other hand, will now go and see your little British friend. Let’s see if he’s smarter than you.”

Lee still swims in an ocean of pain, but Jalal’s last words drag him back into reality. _No_! Richard was about to experience the same, or maybe even worse things! The thought pained Lee more than the nail clipper ever could.

“Leave him be!” he screams. “Richard’s got nothing to do with me!”

But Jalal simply smiles, walks up to him, and says, “Let that be my decision.” And in a swift movement, he grabs Lee’s left little finger, extends it so that it almost touches the back of his hand, and breaks it. “And you should learn to be obedient.”

With that, he yells something at the guards again, ignoring Lee’s cries of pain, and Lee is being yanked to his feet and pushed into the adjacent room. There is an iron door with a tiny slit, and the room itself is pitch black. The giant guard loosens Lee’s fetters, then pushes him inside. He hits the wall that’s not even a metre away from the door. With a bang, the door falls shut and Lee find himself in the blackest darkness he has ever experienced. His hands throb and hurt, but he can still feel all his fingers, thankfully. And he still has the presence of mind to grope around on the ground until he finds a little wooden stick – however that landed here – rips off a piece of his trousers and crafts a makeshift splint for his broken finger.

He tries to feel the size of the room.

His fridge at home is definitely bigger – and warmer.

Lee sits down on the ground, trembling, and closes his still watery eyes.

~*~

Jalal returns the next morning. Lee has not heard Richard scream above him, and that reassures him a little. Jalal also doesn’t mention the name of the British agent, he immediately goes to busy himself with Lee again.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you again!” Jalal says. “But it’s natural, isn’t it? Kids are always looking forward to playing with their favourite toys, aren’t they?”

Lee stares at him without saying a word.

“Let’s play a little game to make your first steps easy, shall we?” Jalal suggests. “I have a knife in my hand. And you will now take off your shirt and then I will stand behind you, asking you questions about the CIA. And for every time you choose not to answer, I will… write on your back, yes?”

Lee inhales deeply. He knows what’s coming. And he dreads it.

“So.” Jalal forces him to undress, and then steps behind him, whispering into his ear. “What does the CIA know about us?”

Lee doesn’t say anything. Jalal waits for about thirty seconds, then Lee feels the sharp tip of the knife painfully piercing into the tender skin between his shoulder blades. It travels down, then makes a slight curve. A _J_. He is etching his name into Lee’s skin.

He asks again, Lee doesn’t answer.

An _A_ joins the _J_ on his back. An _L_ soon follows, then another _A_ , another _L_.

“You’re marked as mine now,” he sniggers. “And everyone will know. Richard will know, too.”

At the mention of Richard’s name, Lee flinches.

“No-one will ever love you again.”

Lee still thinks about Richard.

When his name is written down, Jalal repeats the question one last time, then pushes a finger into the fresh wound, making Lee squirm and scream, and then he leaves him in his cell.

~*~

Lee loses his little toe on his second evening in the basement.

It’s done in a matter of seconds.

Jalal comes to visit him, doesn’t even ask him for information. He just takes a knife and starts to cut into Lee’s little toe, parting the bones from the joint. Then he leaves, without taking care of Lee’s wound.

Lee is too perplex to understand what’s happening, doesn’t even feel pain when it happens. Automatically, he rips off some fabric from his shirt, wraps it tight around the wound and stares at the blood seeping through it.

It’s only when he tries to fall asleep that night that the pain kicks in.

He screams.

No-one can hear him.

~*~

El-Sayed comes to visit the next afternoon. He watches Jalal work and interrogate, but when he steps around Lee and sees the scarred tissue forming Jalal’s name, anger flashes across his face. He turns to Jalal and yells at him in Pashto. Lee doesn’t understand everything, but he can grasp from the context that El-Sayed is roaring something along the lines of “This is _my_ captive! How _dare_ you mark him as your own?”

Lee closes his eyes, a terrible thought drilling its way into his brain. And he is right – El-Sayed grabs the knife from Jalal and then starts to erase what he has done.

Pain sears through Lee’s back, over his shoulders, down to his legs, and he can feel the skin giving way and opening up under the blade of the knife. It’s a large wound, blood trickles down his back, and the chilly air in the room makes Lee shiver when it hits the raw flesh.

At least Jalal’s name has disappeared from his back – but at what cost?

El-Sayed, however, seems to be happy with his work. He rubs his hands together happily and smiles at Lee. “And you,” he says, turning to Jalal, “are no longer needed. You think you’re better than me – well, I think you deserve to die.” And at the flicker of his wrist, a guard pulls out his gun and shoots Jalal.

Blood splatters onto Lee’s face, and he’s left with the body of his tormentor until El-Sayed sends a henchman to remove him four hours later.

~*~

Richard doesn’t know how much time has passed. It’s been too long. It’s dark in his cell, he can’t see the moon or the sun. He just knows that it feels like an eternity to him.

They interrogate him every few hours. They don’t do anything. Just ask him questions. He finds that weirdly relaxing. Yet his body hurts all over. But he doesn’t say a word. El-Sayed knows too much already. Richard is not going to give him the satisfaction of telling him more. He’s willing to endure any pain they are planning him to have. He has to. It’s his job.

They also try to deprive him from sleep – successfully. He has been tied to a board, a bucket hanging on the wall over his head. It has got a hole in the bottom, and water keeps dripping down on Richard’s forehead in a steady rhythm. It’s annoying and unnerving and he can feel himself going mad.

But the water isn’t even the worst thing, if Richard is quite honest. The most terrible thing about this whole situation are the cries he can hear from some other cell in the basement. The walls are thin and whenever the guards leave him alone, only a couple of minutes later, the screams start underneath him.

They’re torturing Lee, and he knows it, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Nothing. He can only wait and listen.

El-Sayed visits him one day. He stares at Richard for a full five minutes, just staring and smiling. His grin broadens when underneath them, Lee starts screaming again. Richard flinches. El-Sayed caresses his cheek, patting it gently. “You hear that?” he asks in a whisper. “Your friend is suffering. Because you are not talking to me. It’s your fault.” Then he leaves and Richard starts sobbing helplessly.

He feels bad and dirty, but he has to protect his organisation. They would torture Lee anyway, he tells himself. But he can feel the crushing feeling of guilt he can feel every second of every minute of every hour of every day.

He cries, too. Cries for Lee. He prays sometimes as well – he wants Lee to get out of here alive, begs for him to not suffer too much. He’s not religious, but it’s the only thing he can do.

He talks to Lee as if he were there. “Be strong,” he says. “You’re brave, you’ll make it,” he whispers. “I miss you,” he chokes out while a tear runs down his cheek.

~*~

This cannot be happening.

I can’t be here, I must be dreaming. Maybe they drugged me. Maybe this isn’t real. I mean. I know I’m still a captive, but I’m probably still in the same cell I was in before. Seems a little smaller but I know it isn’t. It’s still the same.

Haha.

I know what they’re up to.

They’re trying to trick me into thinking they put me somewhere else. Maybe hypnotised me or something, to make me believe they led me down to the basement, right?

I call out for Richard.

He doesn’t respond – well, maybe he’s sleeping.

I’m not on my own.

I know that.

It’s not so bad. I’m okay.

Hah.

Losers.

~*~

I don’t know how I could’ve been so blind. Maybe it was my brain trying to keep me from panicking, but me being alone is definitely real.

They come in every few hours – at least that’s what it feels like to me – and then they start asking me questions about what the CIA knows. And then they punch me. Or cut me with a knife. They threaten to break my bones, but thankfully, they haven’t yet. Except my little finger. Which still hurts as fuck. But not the other bones in my body. Why, I do not know. I’m just grateful for it.

~*~

How many days have passed? Dunno. Don’t care. I’m sitting in this… this cage they call a room which is so small that when I stretch, I have to bend my knees to fully fit inside. I’m like one of those big ass whales in Sea World or something, I guess. Never been a fan of that. Poor things. So majestic and wild and then they get locked up in a way too small tank and people stare at them day in day out.

What the _fuck_ , Lee. Why are you thinking about stuff like this, what’s wrong with you?

I’m probably bored out of my mind. Nothing to do here but wait until they come again and torture me. You think of weird things when you’re isolated, I suppose. I sometimes even look forward to the torture, simply because there is another human or maybe even two. And I can hear their voices, y'know. If I’m developing Stockholm’s, please kill me.

~*~

These sick bastards have me standing in the cell, blindfolded, with a hood and ear plugs. I had to undress and now I have to stand on one leg, knowing that there is a guard in front of me pressing a gun to my forehead. They say if I don’t talk, I have to stand like this for three hours. If I fail, they’ll shoot me.

Muscles hurt already.

But I can do this. I’ll pull through, somehow. My muscles will be sore, but I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, so I should be okay.

The worst thing is the sensory deprivation, though. And the cold breeze in the room. And the humiliation because I can hear the guard snigger and whisper something to his colleague in a language I don’t speak fluently, muffled thanks to my ear plugs. I hear ’ _small_ ’, and I know what they’re referring to, and I’m really trying to not give a shit. But it’s hard.

Fight on, Lee.

Dig your toes into the stony ground and hope for your immune system to work so you don’t catch pneumonia.

I’ll keep fighting, though. They won’t break me. They’ve tried, and they didn’t succeed. I’ll get out of here, and I will fight for Richard, too.

If I have counted the seconds correctly, it’s only ninety more minutes to go. I made it this far, I’ll manage the rest as well.

I hate being subject to my own thoughts. Terrible.

Have I always thought that much?

I should probably stop.

~*~

Silence. Again.

Except for this _fucking_ leaking bucket they filled with water and nailed to the wall. They keep refilling it, and it’s been dripping for… I dunno. Too long, anyway. Keeps me awake. I thought it could have some sort of soothing effect, but it’s just annoying the shit out of me.

_GOD_.

Okay. Gotta distract myself. Think about something else.

Finger still hurts. But it doesn’t look as deformed now anymore.

No. _No_. Don’t think about pain. Think about something nice.

I wonder what Richard does.

I miss Richard.

Who would’ve thought that.

I quite like him. Suppose he is a nice person when he’s not interfering with your missions. And I’m rather happy that we sort of made our peace. He seems to be determined to help me. What with the tending to my wounds and all that stuff.

Heh.

Here I am, thinking fondly about a guy who should technically be my enemy.

But terrible things bring you together, I suppose, whether you want it or not.

I had a friend in him. Someone who understood my situation because he was in it himself. Tactically wise move, El-Sayed, parting me from him. You bastard. I still think I should have killed you. Knife to your throat and then cut it, and I would have enjoyed the feeling of warm blood on my hands.

You know the feeling of blood on your hands, don’t you, you son of a bitch? And you enjoy it, you sick fuck.

But why are you isolating me? Why _me_? It’s not fair! I didn’t do anything.

I tried to kill you, yeah, but Richard wanted to take you captive, too. You’re not torturing him, are you? Although – knowing you, El-Sayed, you probably are.

_God_ , how I hate him. Need to take it out on something. I kick the wall of my cell and a sharp pain shoots through my right foot, starting from the unhealed wound where my toe was, and it hurts but I can feel myself and I don’t feel that numb anymore, so that’s good. When the guards come back to torture me, I’ll probably punch one of them, too. Or El-Sayed himself, if he ever decides he’ll show up, too. Wonder if he wants to get his hands dirty.

He’s such a disgusting little _shit_. Jesus fucking Christ on a stick. I don’t recall being that angry _ever_.

I can physically feel the rage bubbling up in my chest. I get this sort of raw, hollow feeling in my lungs and around my heart, and I hear my breathing speed up and feel my eyes flicker. I clench my fists, my whole muscles suddenly go tense, and I have the feeling I might need to vomit. My finger tips are pulsing with my blood that seems to be rushing through my veins at hundred miles an hour. I grit my teeth until it hurts.

“Fucking _hell_!” I yell. Man. That felt good. I yell again. And again. And _again_.

My throat is raw, my voice is coarse.

I punch the wall, then myself, then the wall again. The tender skin on my knuckles bursts open. I put them to my lips, taste my blood, feel the pain.

I am calming down a little. Thank fuck.

~*~

Can’t sleep.

One of the guards entered, smoking and he stubbed his cigarette out on my arm. I’m kind of used to that. They keep doing it day in, day out.

But that’s not the only reason I can’t sleep. Thoughts are running wild in my head.

My anger seems to have puffed out. All I feel is a strange emptiness. I’m mad at myself, though. No, not mad. Disappointed. Desperate, maybe. If only I had planned my mission better… I might not be here. El-Sayed might be dead. I might be back home.

And Richard. He would be home as well.

We never would have met. That maybe would’ve been for the best.

Oh, if only we had a chance to escape. If only we had different jobs. Then we wouldn’t have fucked up our missions. We wouldn’t have all the torture and the pain.

…. oh, what if I told El-Sayed everything he wants to know? I could maybe make something up, too! I might escape!

But then again, Richard would still be stuck here. I don’t want to leave him on his own.

Oh. Fuck this. I don’t know what to do.

~*~

The same routine, over and over again. The same guards come in the same rhythm, ask me the same questions, and torture me in the same way as before. Three punches to the face, then four to the stomach. They twist my arms behind my back until it hurts, then spit on me. Ask me again. Hurt me again. And so on. And so forth. It’s getting tedious. And so, so exhausting.

I hate this.

I hate this fucking situation. I hate myself for being so weak.

I know I can’t go on any longer.

Body’s shutting down. Only a matter of time before my brain does, too.

I’m going to die soon, anyway, so what’s the point of going on, eh? Why bother with anything?

Can’t even hang myself, room’s too small. Can’t kill myself any other way. I’m too weak to hold my breath long enough.

Maybe I’ll die anyway because they don’t give me anything to drink. How long can a person survive without water? Three to five days I guess. More if your body wants to fight. Still got a bit to go, then. What a shame.

Wonder how Richard is.

Hope he has enough to drink.

I kinda want him near me, if I’m honest. But… wait… if I turn my head… he’s there, isn’t he? I can see him. Feel his presence. If I was to reach out, I might even touch him, right? This isn’t just in my mind, is it? But I can’t lift my arm, it’s too heavy.

Richard…

I can feel him taking my face into his hands… woah… that guy has some deep blue eyes. Haven’t noticed that before. Why not? Should’ve paid more attention.

“Go to sleep,” I hear him say, and his voice is kind of rumbling through my chest. God. This man. Hated him a couple of days ago and now I’m more than glad to see him.

How did he get here, though? Did I fall asleep and they brought me back upstairs again?

Well.

Don’t care.

He’s here, that’s everything that counts.

“I’ll watch over your sleep. I’ve got you.”

Mmmh. His voice is so soothing.

I want to enjoy his voice a little longer.

And his soft hands so warm on my face.

His tender touches…

So… relaxing…

But I’m so tired… so… endlessly … tired…

I…

~*~

I shouldn’t have complained about water. They tied me to a sort of bed or plank or whatever. It’s hard. It hurts. And there’s a full bucket in the corner and I know what’s gonna come if I don’t talk. They call it waterboarding. Y'know. If the victim doesn’t talk, put a cloth on their face and splash water over them so they have the feeling of drowning. Well, technically they _are_ drowning. Being drowned, rather. Either way – huge fun.

I’m not gonna talk, though.

Why would I.

It’s pointless anyway.

I’d welcome it if they killed me – oh fuck. There it is.

Hold your breath, hold your fucking breath, Pace, don’t – shit. Cloth against my nostrils, get it _off get it off me!_

_Coldcoldcold_. So cold. Help me, oh God, help me, I don’t want to die like this. Lungs hurt. I’m scared, so scared, helphelp _help_.

Gasp for air. Again. Again. Sweet, sweet air. Chest is heaving. Muscles burning.

Not again, oh not again, just leave me be, I don’t have information for you, the CIA knows nothing, leave me al _onepleasenotagainnotagain_

_\- i’m dying helphelphelp_

The water’s in my lungs, I can’t, I won’t survive this, my body is still fighting

and there they go again

and again

my mind goes blank

survive survive survive

fight on

fight

for you

for richard

you want to see him again don’t you

fight fight fight fight

don’t give in don’t not now

i’m choking help

get me out of here

water is everywhere

I hate water

I can’t go on, I can’t, help, I have to give in, I need to tell them, I…

okay, okay, “FINE!”

I tell them. Tell them what the CIA knows. It’s not much. But they are happy, they don’t pour water over me again.

~*~

They informed me I’ve been down here for six days now.

Richard is gone, too. Has never been here. Probably hallucinated thanks to dehydration and sleep deprivation. Ain’t that great.

But.

I don’t care.

Hoping that they will come soon and then kill me.

Cut my head off. Let me bleed. Tear out my limbs. Hang me. Break my neck. I don’t care.

Just let this be over.

Can’t even think straight anymore.

Everything’s a mess.

I’m a mess.

Maybe I don’t even deserve death.

Let me die.

Dying is better than this.

I can’t fight it anyway, I may as well prepare for it.

~*~

Barely existing.

Vegetating.

Richard.

Richardrichardrichardrichard.

Can’t keep my eyes open any longer. Fluttering shut. Darkness. Finally. Is this what death feels like? Good. Goodbye, then. Whoever cares.

No-one, most likely.

Bye, Richard.

Pity I didn’t get to see you again.

Bye.

Bye…

…

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be up next Friday - hope you liked this one! As always, the beautiful manips are by attichen. I've also added the other manips to the previous chapters - do check them out, they're amazing! ♥


	5. The Spell Is Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Determined to fight on as a team, our boys grow closer and closer...

The rope cuts painfully into Richard’s wrists. The muscles in his upper arms hurt and he knows he can’t stand the pain any longer. The guards have tied him up to a pole, his arms extended and crossed behind his back. He’s hanging in the air, his arms bearing his whole weight, and he’s surprised his shoulder joints haven’t given out yet. He’s been hanging like this for half an hour now and the pain already is too much. He’s crying, sobbing, he can’t help it.

With a soft _pop_ , he feels his right shoulder joint dislocate; the humerus slides out of the flat socket and the pain he feels is so terribleand intense, forcing him to throw up. He screams.

No-one hears him.

Endless minutes pass, minutes in which the pain travels through Richard’s whole body, minutes in which he can feel his right arm go numb, and just when he last expects it, the door opens.

El-Sayed steps into the cell, as always accompanied by his loyal guards. He takes in the scene in front of him, the obscenely dislocated shoulder, the face twisted with pain, and he moves even slower, grinning.

It feels like hours to Richard until this bloody bastard reaches him, eyes him and says, “Well, boys, take him down. He’s suffered enough.”

Richard is cut down, drops onto the ground and instinctively holds his right arm close to his body. He tries to remember how to relocate a shoulder on your own, but his brain doesn’t provide him with the information he needs. He curses.

“Now, now,” El-Sayed says with a dramatic gasp. “Don’t you swear, Richard. I even brought you a surprise!”

And into the cell blindly stumbles a man, hunched over, barely alive, but Richard only has to look at his face for a moment and he recognises it.

“Lee!” Forgotten is the pain for a second, and Richard feels his heart speed up in his chest. Lee is still alive!

However, he doesn’t react. Well, he does lift his head, stares at Richard, then his eyes go sad, he shakes his head and looks back at the ground. It’s like he doesn’t recognise Richard, or maybe doesn’t even think he’s there.

“Aw. Our boys, reunited after a week. Isn’t this touching?” He wipes a mocking tear from his eye.

Richard shoots Lee a glance – has it really only been a week?

With a face pale and densely caked with blood and dirt, eyelids swollen nearly shut, hair falling from the front of his forehead in thin clusters, Lee kneels down, with only a dirty pair of trousers and a ragged shirt on his body. Richard gasps loudly when he sees Lee’s broken finger, his lost toe, the scar on his back peeking out from underneath the torn shirt.

“What did they do to you?” he whispers, but he only gets a tired, broken look in return. Richard lets out a sob, blaming himself for Lee’s condition.

“He had it coming,” El-Sayed says simply. “He didn’t answer, we punished him. That’s just fair, isn’t it?” He claps Lee on his back, right between the shoulder blades, and Lee lets out an anguished croak that was supposed to be scream. But his vocal chords don’t cooperate with him anymore. “Anyway. Lovely to you see you boys, but I really have to dash. Important work. Blowing up things. You know, the usual.” El-Sayed leaves with a wink, and then they are alone.

“Lee!” Richard tries again when the door has fallen shut. This time, Lee stares at him a little longer. “It’s me, Richard! Don’t you remember me?” He reaches out with his left hand, touching Lee’s shoulder gently, and that is where something in Lee’s head _clicks._

“Richard,” he whispers, and then repeats his name, clasping a hand over his mouth and letting out a sob. “You’re real!”

“Of course I am,” Richard replies, confused.

Lee takes a step forward, hesitantly, and then spreads his arms a little. Richard understands, pulling Lee close with his left arm, and they hug tightly for a while until they both are sure that the other is really here, still alive.

“Drink,” Richard orders him, holding his right arm in place. “There’s still some water in the bottle, and you need it more than me, so _drink_.”

Lee hesitates at first, but then greedily swallows almost all the water they have. Then he turns to look at Richard, and his eyes widen when he sees what they have done to him. “They dislocated your shoulder!”

“The ropes did, but yeah.”

“Let me… let me help you,” Lee suggests, slowly walking towards Richard, gently supporting his hurt arm. “Sit down, will you?”

Richard slumps down against the wall and hisses in pain when Lee doesn’t lower his arm in time with Richard’s movement.

“Shh, shh,” Lee says, “try to stay calm.” His voice is still raw, but it’s getting better thanks to the water.

“That’s easier said than done, you twat,” Richard grits out. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Lee flashes him a weak smile, then asks him to sit up against the wall and straighten his back. Richard obliges and distorts his face when a sudden pain shoots from his shoulder down to his elbow.

“What are you trying to do?” he growls, eyeing Lee carefully.

Lee glances up at him form underneath his eyelashes. “I’m trying to relocate your shoulder. Press your upper arm against your side and bend your elbow.”

Richard sighs but does as he’s told. He closes his eyes, preparing himself for immense pain, but Lee’s hands are gentle and warm and his movements are careful. He rotates Richard’s lower arm outside a little, then presses his upper arm towards his head and then rotates the lower arm back inwards. He then massages Richard’s biceps, works on the muscles in his neck and with a silent noise, Richard feels his bone hop back into the joint socket. He exhales.

The pain is still there, but it has subsided significantly and he can actually move his arm. This must be what bliss feels like, he concludes.

“You okay?” Lee asks, his hand lingering on Richard’s shoulder.

“Yeah.” Richard opens his eyes and blinks at Lee. “Cheers.”

Lee smirks. “Don’t mention it.”

Richard tries to sit up, but Lee interrupts him. “Don’t move it yet,” Lee warns him. “The joint is still injured, it can easily pop back out again. We need to immobilise and cool it first. One night with a bandage around your shoulder, and you should be good to go.”

Richard scoffs. “Well then. Please produce a bandage out of nowhere.”

Lee makes a face at him, then looks around their little cell. There is really nothing he could use for a bandage, except maybe the dirty linen they sleep on. But then again – it’s the only soft thing they sleep on, so he can’t use that. Richard watches him with interest, noting the little frown appearing between his eyebrows, the tip of his tongue poking out in concentration. Suddenly, Lee’s face lights up – he seems to have an idea.

What Richard does not expect, however, is Lee ripping off his shirt in a quick movement. “There we go,” he exclaims happily and starts to damp it with a little bit of their drinking water. He wraps it around Richard’s shoulder efficiently – and it’s all Richard can do not to stare.

He does not succeed, though.

Lee’s chest muscles move with every motion he makes. He is well-toned, but not too much so, and it does suit him a lot. Richard gulps. Something in him wants him to reach out and touch, but instead he digs his fingernails into the soft skin of his palm to keep him from doing something inappropriate.

All too soon Lee is done and leans backwards. “Finished,” he says with a smile, then sits down next to Richard. “What do you think?” Again, his hand gently covers Richard’s shoulder.

Richard bites his tongue to keep himself from saying that he thinks Lee is incredibly attractive. So he just thanks him again, then closes his eyes and touches the back of his head to the wall. All of a sudden, it feels like all energy has left him. He is just so incredibly exhausted.

Neither of them moves for a while. Lee keeps his hand on Richard’s shoulder and he isn’t sure if his skin tingles there because of the injury, or because it’s Lee’s hand. He locks his eyes with Lee’s and suddenly, all the memories are back.

Now that Lee has taken off his shirt, Richard can see the scar in its whole extent – it’s a ragged, ugly thing, right across Lee’s back. It looks like it had been used to erase something that was there before, but Richard knows better than to ask what the story behind it is. He just feels a terrible pang in his chest, pity for Lee, and hatred for El-Sayed. He just hopes Lee doesn’t feel too much pain where the scar tissue is.

Lee’s whole body is covered in bruises, some blue, some green, some red, some fading, and they are everywhere. They must have hit him every day, for hours, maybe several times.

Lee has freckles on his shoulders, Richard notices. Little islands of hope in a sea of evidence of pain and torture.

“I heard you scream,” Richard whispers, voice cracking. He shifts a little, reaching out to touch Lee’s cheek. He flinches away but then allows the touch. “What did they _do_ to you?” Richard’s eyes search Lee’s face for a clue but it stays like a mask.

“I really don’t want to talk about this.” Lee shakes his head and gets ready to stand up, but Richard’s hand falls to Lee’s upper arm and squeezes lightly. Lee understands and sits down next to him.

“You can’t keep this locked up in yourself. It’s only going to kill you if you don’t talk about it.” Richard shuffles closer. “I don’t want them to break you.”

Lee smiles sadly. “I suppose it’s too late for that now, anyway.”

“No,” Richard rushes to protest. “No, don’t say that. You’re strong, they can’t break you that easily. Just… just talk to me. Let me carry a little of your burden. Let me help. Please.”

Lee turns his head and looks at him, confusion evident in his eyes. “Why would you do this? Some days ago you were still pretty mad at me for having ruined your mission.” He huffs a laugh. “You downright _hated_ me.”

Richard swallows. “I…” He doesn’t know what to say. He is taken aback by Lee’s accusation, and by the hurt in his voice. He never would have thought it might have upset Lee that much – they had made their peace after all. But maybe being tortured, alone in a dark cell… that probably changed him. It must have been hard on his mind. It wasn’t exactly easy for Richard either. “I never hated you,” he adds quietly.

Lee scoffs.

“I wish I could make you believe that. Because it’s the truth.” Richard hesitates before carefully sliding his hand a little closer to Lee’s. Their little fingers touch – a welcome sensation after days of being alone. This time, Lee doesn’t flinch away. “I was angry, yes. I admit that,” Richard continues. “But I didn’t hate you. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know I was there.”

“Still…” Lee doesn’t continue to speak. He stares at the floor in silence.

“Talk to me,” Richard repeats after a while. “Tell me what they did to you. I want to take some of the weight off your shoulders.” When Lee doesn’t reply, Richard adds, “I’ve… I’ve had quite some time to think the past couple of days. And I’ve come to the conclusion that… that I would consider you… an ally. A friend.” He clears his throat. It’s true – he cares about Lee more than he probably should, given that they are on different missions and from different organisations.

Lee’s head shoots up. “You really mean this, don’t you?”

“Why would I lie to you in such a situation?”

“Mmh.” Lee turns his head back again, focussing on the floor. Richard fears he might have screwed this up, might have destroyed the small bond that he thinks they had, but just as he is about to apologise, Lee begins to tell him. He tells him about the way they questioned him, how they hit him over and over again. He explains that he kept his mouth shut and didn’t give any information away. He talks about the pain and the injuries. But he doesn’t speak about this like it affected him – his voice is monotonous, he doesn’t move his hands to emphasise certain things. It’s like he’s a robot retelling a story.

The psychological damage is too high for Lee to process so he deals with it the way anyone would do: suppress it, ban all emotions and pretend it didn’t happen. It hurts Richard to see him like this.

“They would come in at night,” Lee finishes, “or whenever I was asleep, really. They’d come in and pour boiling water over my head. Or start stubbing out their cigarette butts on my skin.” He holds out his arm for Richard to see the round, brownish red wounds on his pale skin.

Richard doesn’t know how to respond. Lee doesn’t seem to mind. So he just says, “I’m sorry” and Lee nods. Richard covers Lee’s hand with his own and squeezes it and Lee squeezes back. It seems to be enough. For now.

Richard promises himself to think about ways how he could make Lee feel better. That’s the least he can do.

“We should go to sleep,” Richard suggests after a short while. “It’s been too long since both of us slept and they seem to leave us alone. We should get all the rest we can.” He moves to get up but Lee stays put. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid of sleeping.”

A sentence so simple and short, yet so full of hurt and fear that Richard feels his chest clench painfully. _These monsters_ , he curses inwardly, _they are monsters for depriving Lee of his sleep, for hurting him whenever he wanted to rest_.

“I’m here,” he says quietly. “You don’t have to be scared.” He extends a hand for Lee to grab. It’s a silent promise, one of safety and caring. And Lee eventually does take Richard’s hand – hesitantly, but he does take it, and Richard leads him to their makeshift bed that consists of some dirty old rags and a holey duvet, and Lee follows and lies down next to him. They face each other, and Richard can still see the underlying fear in Lee’s eyes, so he wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, and Lee melts against him.

“I’m still scared,” Lee whispers and Richard hugs him tightly to his chest.

“I’m here,” he repeats. “I’ll watch over your sleep. No-one will harm you.”

“You’re here,” Lee agrees, his eyes suddenly taking on a dazed, dreamy look. Richard doesn’t know that his mind went back to that one night in the isolated cell, that one night Lee dreamt of Richard watching over his sleep.

They fall asleep in seconds.

Sleep has never felt so good.

~*~

Richard wakes first the following morning. In his arms, Lee still sleeps tightly, nose buried in the hollow between Richard’s collar bones. His chest is rising and falling slowly, he seems to be sleeping without a bad dream, and simply in peace. Richard smiles at that, happy that Lee can at least get a little rest, relax a bit from the torture that lies behind him.

He gently runs his fingers through Lee’s hair, and has to stifle a laugh when Lee sleepily snuffles a little. He bends his head to touch his nose to Lee’s temple and closes his eyes, wanting to drift off once more as well, but that’s when he hears voices outside their cell door.

They are coming for them again.

Ice cold panic washes over him, but he forces himself to stay calm. He gently nudges Lee’s shoulder. “Lee,” Richard whispers, “wake up.”

“Hm?” Lee moans, slowly waking up. “Wassup?”

“Just wake up, Lee, alright?” Richard lifts his head to stare through the iron bars. They are coming closer. “I don’t want you to get startled.”

“By wha’?” Lee blinks at him in confusion, but then he realises what Richard is playing at, and all the sleepiness drains from his face. “ _No_ ,” he whimpers, “not again!”

Richard hugs him tight to his chest. “I’ll do my best to keep you from any harm, Lee, I promise! They won’t hurt you again.”

El-Sayed barges in in that moment, with a huge smile on his face. “Good morning!” he yells, and Richard’s ears start ringing. “The sun is shining outside, and I know you can’t see it, but it’s still a lovely day and therefore, we’re going to have some more fun together!” He does a little dance in front of them, then orders his guards to pull them to their feet and they leave their cell.

El-Sayed leads them to the basement, and with every step closer, Lee starts trembling more and more. All the memories seem to come back to him and Richard tries to soothe him by whispering, “I’m here, Lee, I’ll watch out!” but it doesn’t seem to work. He didn’t expect it to.

They rip Richard’s bandage off his shoulder, the sudden loss of pressure resulting in pain, and for a second he fears that it might dislocate again, but he hasn’t much time to think about it. He gets tied to a chair. Lee simply has to stand there, a guard positioned behind his back so he doesn’t flee. Richard can see him relax, but only a little.

“Now,” El-Sayed says. “Lee has kept quiet for almost a whole week. I’m very impressed, I must say! Eventually, he did come clean, though. Told us about the CIA. Good boy, that one. He’s a keeper, Richard.” He walks closer to Lee and rummages around in his jacket pocket. “Now it’s Richard’s turn to talk. And every time he doesn’t answer the question I ask him, _you_ will punish him.”

He hands Lee a black stun gun, and his eyes widen in shock. Lee drops it, and immediately receives a blow to his face. “Pick that up,” El-Sayed orders him, and he does, hand trembling.

“I don’t want to do this,” Lee says. “I don’t.”

“I have a rather good argument to convince you, I believe,” El-Sayed replies and nods. In a matter of seconds, a gun is pressed to Lee’s temple and Richard flinches in his chair. “If you disobey me, Lee, you’ll get shot. You don’t want that, do you?” El-Sayed asks. “Didn’t think so.”

Lee stares at the stun gun in his hands, shaking his head, whole body trembling. “No, no, no, no,” he keeps whispering, like a mantra.

Richard knows he will shock him. They have him at gun point, what can he do? He knows he won’t be mad at Lee, he would probably react just the same if he was in his situation. Especially after a week or incommunicado. Besides, a taser usually doesn’t kill. It hurts, it can lead to a delirium, you can maybe receive damage to your nerves – but in all his experience, Richard has never seen someone die from a stun gun. He should be fine, he tells himself, but his body chooses to betray him. His palms become sweaty, his heart beat rises, and breathing gets harder.

He stares at the wall ahead of him, narrowing down on one stone in the wall, trying to regain the control over his body when El-Sayed steps in front of him. “Let’s play,” he says. “Riddle me this: how does the MI6 know about Black Fall?”

“We pulled a rabbit out of a hat and asked him.”

The anticipated shock doesn’t come. Lee is still standing where he was before, fingers clamped around the stun gun. He is not moving. Then the guard presses the gun harder into his head and says, “Shock him”, and that’s when Lee takes a step towards Richard and tasers him.

It hurts a little. Richard keeps quiet.

El-Sayed tells Lee to up the voltage, then repeats his question.

“Fortune cookie told us.”

The pain is a lot stronger this time. Richard’s arms tingle in an uncomfortable way. He is still okay.

They keep playing this little game for about thirty more minutes. El-Sayed poses a question, Richard thinks of a completely weird answer, and in return, Lee shocks him. El-Sayed gets more and more impatient by the second. When he has had enough, he personally increases the voltage to the highest percentage the stun gun can muster.

“I’m asking you one last time, you stuck-up cock,” El-Sayed growls. “How does the MI6 know about our location?”

“Because a fucking dragon told us.”

El-Sayed roars, strikes Richard in the face with his fist, then orders Lee to stun him. “Make it _hurt_ ,” he says, and Richard can see Lee being torn between shocking him and dying for him, and for one second it looks like he is actually going to choose death, but the decision is being taken from him when El-Sayed violently grabs his arm and jerks it towards Richard’s neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m _sorry_ ,” Richard hears Lee whisper, and only moments later, that painful tingling sensation travels through his body with more intensity than before, his heart prickles, his head aches, and he blacks out.

~*~

The next thing he knows is that Lee is now tied up as well, forced to kneel on the ground. Richard blinks several times before his vision turns sharp again. The shun gun seems to have wandered back into El-Sayed’s pockets – he is now holding a belt, probably his own. He slaps it against the palm of his hand, the leather hitting his skin produces an ugly squishing noise.

“I’ve decided to turn the tables. Change the pace. The _Pace_.” El-Sayed sniggers at his own terrible pun. “Changed his position, more like. The new rules are as follows: you will not get punished if you don’t talk – but he will. Let me demonstrate.” Calmly, El-Sayed walks over to Lee and flogs him across the back with his belt. Lee is arching up, teeth gritting together.

“So, once again, my British dove – how does the MI6 know about our location?”

Richard decides to stay quiet for now. His job still is his first priority, after all.

Lee gets struck again with the belt, a red welt appearing on his already tormented back. El-Sayed hits him again. “Just for fun,” he says, wrinkling his nose in amusement.

Richard still doesn’t say a word.

With a sigh, El-Sayed takes a big swing and lets the belt hit Lee’s skin again, once, twice, thrice, and over and over and over again, and soon enough, he is bleeding.

“If you don’t talk, he gets beaten to death,” El-Sayed growls, and Richard immediately tells him that the MI6 was able to catch a terrorist from Black Fall. He cannot allow that they torture Lee further, not after everything he has been through.

Satisfied, El-Sayed flogs Lee one last time, then has them brought back into their cell. Lee curls up in a corner, away from Richard, and just lies there.

Richard quietly settles down next to him, cleaning his wounds with a little water, then hugs him from behind, careful not to hurt him, and Lee – thank God – lets him.

Lee cries himself to sleep.

~*~

“Psst.” A silent whisper makes Richard perk up his ears. The young servant woman is standing outside of their cell, looking around in fear.

“What is it?” Richard silently walks over to her, careful not to wake Lee. He’s glad he’s asleep – he does need the rest. “Are you okay?”

The girl nods. “Yes. I want to tell you something. Must be quiet.” She places a finger on her lips. Richard nods. She leans forward against the bars, looks around once more, then whispers into his ear: “That man. He saved me. I am thankful. I want to help you.”

“Help us?” Richard repeats. “What do you mean?”

She looks at him with her big brown eyes, frowning in concentration. “Help you… how do you say… go away?”

“Escape, you mean? Escape from here?”

She nods, happy that Richard understands. “I can make guards sleep. I make … special milk of poppy. Can put it in their food. They sleep peaceful.”

Richard raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure that will work?”

She giggles, then immediately covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh yes. I try many times.”

Richard smirks at that. “Very well, then. How would you go about this?”

She ponders his question for a moment. “Tomorrow evening, guards eat at 6. I give them special food, then come here and open cell doors. You can go.” She says it with certainty and Richard knows she won’t accept _no_ as an answer.

When he doesn’t reply immediately, she starts worrying her bottom lip.

“Sharifa?” Richard asks. “What is wrong? Are you having second thoughts?”

“No,” she says, “no. I just want to apologise. I… I tell El-Sayed that you are friends with the tall American and when I tell him he has idea of torture you together to make one of you break down. I just wanted to be in better place. I think only about myself because I am scared. I am sorry.”

Richard clenches his jaw. So it was Sharifa who went running to El-Sayed, she is the one they owe all the pain, both emotional and physical, to. But he can understand her, really. She just wanted to save herself, and being in her place as a poor servant’s girl, he would have probably used every chance he could to get out of there.

“I forgive you,” he whispers. “Truly. I’m not mad at you. Lee and I, we are strong.” He tries to smile at her, but it hurts a little. His lips are still cracked from dehydration.

She looks at him shyly, then nods. “Thank you.”

“How can we ever make this up to you? You making the guards go to sleep and helping us get out of here,” Richard asks, changing the topic back to their escape.

“Take me with you,” she pleads. “No good place here. I go with you. Please.”

“That’s the least we can do,” he agrees and the girl smiles, says goodbye and runs off. Richard returns to Lee who is still asleep. He lies down next to him and in a flood of emotions – relief, happiness, content – presses a kiss to his head. “We’re getting out of here,” he whispers. “We will go home.”

~*~

Sharifa stays true to her word.

She walks past their cell with the food for the guards, nodding quickly at them and Richard nods back. He and Lee are fully awake, ready to muster up the last strength in their body to fight and flee.

Sharifa has told them that they are not too far from Kandahar, only about a half day’s drive, and Richard now knows why it felt so long when they took him to the prison all those weeks ago. The Jeep the guards use to drive around with is still parked outside of the building, and Lee has suggested they use it to get to the Kandahar Ghazni Highway, and from there, to an American military outpost close to Kandahar.

It sounds like a perfect plan.

And the best thing about it – it seems to be working.

The guards fall asleep after having eaten two spoonfuls of their food, Sharifa quickly opens the cell, and Lee and Richard sneak out of their prison quickly. She hands them a small water bottle, “just in case,” she says, and Richard smiles at her way of thinking. Water will definitely come in handy in the desert. Lee silently grabs a gun from one of the knocked out guards, and then they make their way outside the old house and towards the Jeep.

Just when they are about to hop in, a piercing yell reaches their ears, and only moments later, three guards come storming out of the house, guns cocked, and start shooting at them randomly. Somehow, one of the guards must have woken up, maybe the dosage was too low. Either way, they were in danger now.

Lee pulls the trigger on his small pistol too and he strikes one of the guards in the chest. Richard is able to duck away from the bullets, and Lee also doesn’t get hit.

Sharifa, however, is not that lucky.

A bullet hits her right in the heart, and she drops down, already dead.

Lee stands right next to her, staring at her glassy eyes, petrified. He kneels down to close her eyes, not even realising that the guards are inching closer and closer to him.

“ _Leave her_!” Richard bellows. “We don’t have time to bury her, move the fuck along, Lee!” He’s panicking, he wants to get away from here as soon as they can. They made it outside, they can’t just stop now. They can mourn Sharifa when they are safe. So he grabs Lee’s shoulder, jerks him around and drags him with him towards the car.

Lee stiffens at first, still wanting to return and get the young girl, their heroine, but eventually he gives in and stumbles after Richard, jumping on the passenger seat when Richard drives off at breakneck speed. The sun has already set, the stars are out, and Richard manages to navigate their way towards the general direction of the military outpost with their help.

However, after about forty minutes, the car splutters and comes to a halt all of a sudden.

Lee looks up. “What’s wrong?”

“Gas tank’s empty,” Richard says and slams the heels of his hands down on the steering wheel violently. “Fucking hell.”

“So what now?”

“We have to walk.”

“All the way to Kandahar?”

“Afraid so.”

“We’re screwed.”

“Affirmative.” With a sigh, Richard reaches behind him to grab a forgotten weapon, two shirts and two jackets from the rear of the car, then motions Lee to get out. Lee, holding tightly onto the small water bottle and the gun, does as he is told and together, they walk off into the desert – a dangerous wilderness ahead of them, with dangers lurking everywhere.

Richard knows it won’t be easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE LOVE ALL OF YOU GUYS SO MUCH!!! You have no idea how much every comment, every like, every hit means to us! Whenever we meet up we spend at least half an hour just squeeing over the fact that you like this story and jkshfkjhfdjhajkf I have no words to express our gratitude. Thank you thank you thank you!! (By the way, we've just received our copies for the print-out version of this story, and it looks really amazing. We've been thinking about publishing it properly with names changed, locations changed, more backstory, you know. Would anyone be interested in that kind of book? :/)


	6. Under A Starry Canopy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The desert is not a nice place. The sun is burning your skin, you're running low on water, and the worst thing is, your emotions grow raw and intense, and you cannot help but let them out. One way or the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It will be a public holiday over here tomorrow, and on a day like this, my internet usually screws up and doesn't return until forever. So, to be on the safe side (AND BECAUSE WE WANTED TO MAKE YOU GUYS HAPPY KJFHKJDHFKJDSHFKJSD), have the sixth chapter! (And have four most amazing manips by attichen. Seriously, HOW does she do that?!)

 

 

 

 

The days are hot and the heat unbearable. Their mouths are dry, lips chapped, skin close to bursting. It’s hard to walk in the warm desert sun, there is almost no shade to hide in, away from the boiling sun. They dig holes in the sand sometimes, and lie in them, when the air gets too hot and steamy to continue walking. Richard sometimes thinks that El-Sayed’s torture methods were nicer than this.

They eat cacti fruit if they manage to find some. Lee has even tried to munch a grasshopper, but he gave up after the first bite and spat it out again. They are hungry, stomachs growling, and their water supply is meagre as well. They share the water bottle, taking long draughts instead of small sips to supply their brains and organs with the required amount of water. It’s still not enough, though.

Their injuries still hurt. Lee has problems to keep his balance in the dunes thanks to his lost toe, his skin blisters around his scars. Richard has problems with his right arm as well. He sometimes imagines eagles circling in the air above them, but then realises he is hallucinating.

It’s terrifying.

~*~

The nights are cold and dark.

The moon hovers in the firmament above them, miles and miles away. The crisp wind swirls up the sand in the desert, making their makeshift hide-out even more uncomfortable. They don’t have sleeping bags, all there is are their jackets to protect them against the cold. It’s not enough, though.

Richard doesn’t know who initiates it, but in the middle of their first night out in the desert, they start snuggling up to each other, bodies pressed close together, sharing the little warmth that is left.

One night, it rains.

Richard captures some of the drops in their water bottle and gulps it down eagerly, fills it up again and hands it to Lee, but he refuses. It seems like he’s given up, not caring about anything anymore. He just pulls his jacket tighter around his shoulders and angles his head away from Richard, staring into the darkness.

Richard wordlessly sits down next to Lee, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. He feels Lee tense under the touch, but he doesn’t shy away. Eventually, though, he relaxes, allowing himself to slump against Richard, head placed carefully on his shoulder. Richard gives Lee’s shoulder a tiny squeeze, hoping to reassure him, to calm him down. Richard holds the water bottle against his lips, a silent plea for Lee to accept it and drink and survive and _please, don’t leave me alone with this now_ , and Lee looks up and into Richard’s eyes, and then he drinks, and Richard has never felt that relieved before.

They’ll make it, somehow. They’ve got each other, fighting side by side. They’ll make it. He’s sure of it.

~*~

Four nights into their escape, Richard is jolted out of his sleep by a scream. Next to him, Lee is thrashing around wildly, yelling and crying, and Richard tries to pin him down by pushing down on his shoulders. “Lee,” he says, and when there is no reaction he tries it a little louder. “ _Lee_.”

Lee blinks awake in a matter of seconds, gripping Richard’s upper arms, then exhales when he recognises him. “I thought you were someone attacking me.”

“I’m not. What’s wrong?”

“Bad dream,” Lee mumbles.

Richard lies back down and faces Lee, gently taking his right hand into his own. “Tell me.”

Lee shakes his head. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not when you are screaming like this.” Richard shuffles closer. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Lee releases a shaky breath. “I… I dreamt about Sharifa and how she got shot. I dreamt it over and over again. And the fifth time… her face merged into the face of my sister. You know, because Sharifa reminded me so much of her. And… and then my sister got shot… and… I just…” Lee hiccups, tears welling up in his eyes and he squeezes them shut in pain.

“Hey,” Richard says, cupping Lee’s face with his hands, forcing him to look at him. He can feel the hot tears on his cheeks and gently wipes them away with his thumb. “Lee, it’s alright. It’s not real. Your sister is alive.”

“I know,” Lee breathes. “I know she is. I’m just… just scared to fall asleep again. What if I see her face again?”

“You won’t,” Richard says softly. “Because I’m here now. I’ll watch over your sleep. I’ll protect you. I’ve got you. Okay?”

For a brief moment, recognition and confusion flashes over Lee’s features before he smiles softly and nods. “Thanks,” he says, motioning for Richard to lie down with him, and he does, and once more, they curl up against each other. Richard stays awake playing with Lee’s hair until he is certain that Lee has fallen asleep, and then he allows himself to drift off, as well.

Lee is not disturbed by a nightmare again that night.

~*~

Richard is just waking up when he hears a noise next to his ear. It’s like something thin is walking through the sand next to his head. He blinks sleepily but cannot spot anything, until a sudden sharp pain runs through his neck and when he angles his head and manages to look down, he sees a snake digging its teeth into the soft flesh of his throat. “ _Fuck_ ,” he curses, “get this thing _off me_!” But the snake drops off before he can grab it and starts slithering away.

“Leave it be,” Lee yells when he sees that Richard is about to jump up and kill it. “Stay still! Did it bite you?”

Richard turns to look at Lee – the concern in his voice surprises him. “Yes.”

“Shit.” Lee immediately falls down on his knees and rips open the first two buttons of Richard’s shirt.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, what are you _doing_?” Richard asks, flabbergasted, but he doesn’t try to push Lee off.

Lee glares at him before lowering his mouth onto Richard’s neck and starts sucking.

Everything slows down in a matter of seconds.

Lee’s soft lips are warm on Richard’s skin, he can feel Lee’s breath ghosting over his neck, Lee’s hands tightened in the lapels of his shirt, Lee’s hair tickling his ear and jaw, and Lee’s body so close to his own. Richard’s mouth falls open involuntarily and he has to gasp for air.

Lee pushes Richard down, forcing him to lie still

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when Lee lets go of his neck and sits up straight, spitting into the desert sand. He runs the back of his hand over his mouth, then gently touches his fingers to the reddened skin of Richard’s throat. “It was a krait snake,” he explains. “Highly venomous. I had to suck the poison out of your blood.”

“Thanks,” Richard replies with raspy voice. “But isn’t this just some kind of Hollywood myth bullshit?”

“Yeah,” Lee replies dryly. “But that snake has barely touched you. And while it’s true that squeezing the skin together can just make everything worse and only a slight amount of poison actually leaves the blood stream when sucking – you’ll survive. The snake didn’t bite you properly since it wasn’t trying to _eat_ you and they usually only bite with a lot of poison if they do. And even _if_ some poison got into your system, I sucked it out. Besides,” he adds and wriggles his eyebrows, “you’ve got deliciously soft skin.”

“I always knew you were a vampire.” Richard touches the back of his wrist dramatically to his forehead, pretending to faint.

Lee laughs and bends his index fingers, placing them where his fangs are and _hiss_ es.

Laughter bubbles up in Richard’s chest. “You’re much more attractive than that _Twilight_ dude, though. And you don’t sparkle. That’s pretty nice.”

“Thanks a bunch, babe, you’re not that bad either.” Lee gently shoves Richard’s shoulder and grins at him, and sitting here together, laughing about a stupid joke and some compliments – this is just what they need. “The sparkling thing has yet to be proved, though,” Lee continues and moves his hands to the collar of his shirt, ready to take it off.

Richard’s hands fly up to Lee’s chest. “Don’t. If you do sparkle, they’ll find us in a matter of seconds,” he says and Lee giggles again, taking Richard’s hands in his gently, playing with his finger tips. He doesn’t know why he is doing this, but Richard doesn’t complain.

“Maybe we aren’t in too bad a situation,” Richard mumbles and as a reply, Lee squeezes his hand. Richard squeezes back.

~*~

They are, though.

That night, a group of two men attacks them – both of them El-Sayed’s people, as far as Richard can tell in the darkness and as sleepy as he is.

They are woken by a punch to Lee’s nose and a kick to Richard’s stomach, and before they can fathom what’s going on, two large men are on them, holding them down and showering them with blows. Lee recognises his tormentor as the giant who was there on his first day of isolation and torture. He goes rigid immediately, not even fighting back, just lying there frozen in shock.

Richard, however, reacts as soon as the man on his chest wants to hit him square across his face: he grabs his wrist, rotates it painfully, then kicks his back with his knee, rolling them around and gaining the upper hand when the man cries out in pain. Richard knocks him out with a precisely aimed karate chop to the area around the common carotid artery in his neck. Stimulated too much, the blood vessel is pressed together and the blood pressure rises rapidly, so a protection reflex kicks in, resulting in lower blood pressure and, eventually, fainting.

When his attacker poses no threat anymore, Richard jumps at the giant sitting on Lee’s chest. Despite Lee being tall and strong, he stands no chance against that man on his own, and the fear in his body doesn’t help either. Together, however, they might get the man under control.

When Lee sees Richard wrapping his arms tightly around the giant’s throat, he finally snaps out of his fear and into action. He drives two fingers right into the man’s solar plexus, causing him to bend forwards in pain. Richard still has him in a tight headlock, kicking him between the legs and dragging him to the side at the same time so Lee can wriggle free. Lee jumps up, drawing his gun and aiming it at the man on the ground. Richard is still kneeling next to him, pressing the giant’s head tight against his body.

The man roars in frustration, he cannot get up and even if he tried, Lee would shoot him in an instant.

“Listen,” Richard tries to negotiate. “If this is about us escaping, then that’s not your fault. You weren’t even there when we ran off. El-Sayed can’t possibly punish you -”

“It’s not about you bastards,” the giant man bellows, his English surprisingly accent free. “This is about Sharifa!”

“Sh- sharifa?” Lee stutters, remembering the little girl that risked so much to help them, and eventually paid with her life.

“We _liked_ her,” the giant barks. “And you _killed_ her!”

“We did _not_ ,” Lee protests. “She was shot, by someone from your own ranks!”

The giant spits out and scoffs. “Bullshit,” he says, “you lie. And we’ll kill you. Blood for blood. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth.”

Richard glares at him. “I understand you want revenge for that little girl, but we didn’t kill her! On the contrary, she helped us escape, why would we want to get rid of her?”

“That we do not know,” the giant replies, “but we know you shot her, and you are going to die!”

“No, no, don’t make that mistake, don’t,” Lee tries to protest hectically, and he points the gun at the man’s head now.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Richard screams in pain when a knife is jammed into his right side. It’s not sticking in too deep, most of the blade is still visible, but it’s a knife wound nonetheless and it’s bleeding like hell. The man must have had the knife hidden on his body, and while they were talking, he must have drawn it.

Lee grabs his pistol and shoots the giant, and he dies with a gargled cry of pain. Richard presses a hand on the wound tightly, keeping the knife inside because nothing is worse than to pull it out. He is also trying to stop the blood loss somehow, but he knows he’ll need to do something about it as soon as possible.

On the horizon, he spies dust blowing up, three heads appearing behind the cloud of sand, apparently the giant’s back-up. They’ve got to leave, quickly.

“Are you alright, Richard?” Lee comes running up to him, panic and worry in his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Richard grunts. “We’ve just got to get rid of them somehow.” He points at the three men in the distance who are coming closer by the second. Lee’s eyes widen.

“You’re _bleeding_!” Lee points out the obvious, and Richard just rolls his eyes. It’s nice that Lee cares, but they’ve got more important things to worry about now. Like the three men with their guns at their heels. Richard scans his surroundings quickly. If he remembers correctly from what he has seen on the maps he studied back in the UK, there should be some sort of river close by.

A bird flies over their heads, and Richard tracks it with his eyes. _Animals lead you to water sources_. So he runs after the bird, and Lee follows suit, and to Richard’s utter relief, there actually _is_ a river, several feet underneath them. He does not know its name, and frankly, he doesn’t care. He just knows that if they jump off that cliff now, chances are good that they can throw their pursuers off.

He looks at Lee, and Lee stares back.

“Jump,” Richard mouths, nodding down to the river, and Lee understands. After one last glance at the other, they both jump off and down, landing in the water with a _splash_. Richard has scraped his knees and he is fairly sure that there will be several bruises on his arms and legs in the morning, but thankfully, he hasn’t broken or sprained anything. Lee looks equally alright, but Richard grabs him by the shoulders anyway, staring into his eyes, trying to see if he truly is okay.

“I’m good,” Lee whispers, grasping Richard’s upper arm. “Let’s go.”

They hurry off, leaving their enemies back up on that cliff. They’re safe, for now.

~*~

They reach a city after a two hours’ march. Or rather, the remnants of what has once _been_ a city. There are only a couple of houses left upright, most of them are broken, bricks clattering up the paths. The few people who live here are dirty and skinny, and judging by some children’s cries, hungry as well.

“Look at this,” Lee says quietly, biting his lower lip. “This city’s been bombed. By _us_. The Americans. Look at the people. They’ve got barely anything to eat, their houses are destroyed. Why do people _do_ this?”

“That’s politicians for you,” Richard says curtly. “They prefer to bomb a town too much rather than too few.” He is leaning heavily on Lee. The jump into the river, the long swim and the following never-ending march hadn’t done any good to his gun shot wound. Lee looks at him with worry in his eyes and supports his weight a little more. Richard has lost a lot of blood and the dirty water of the river still burns in his wound.

“Don’t worry, Richard,” Lee says, trying to give his voice a hopeful ring. “There must be a doctor around here somewhere.”

“Who’s worrying here now?” Richard replies with a lopsided grin, and Lee smiles at him humourlessly in response.

Lee heads for a woman with a baby on her arm and another child clinging to her hand to ask her about a doctor. But the woman turns around with a frightened look, disappearing into a house and immediately bolting the door. The same happens to them with two more little groups of people – everyone refuses to help the strangers.

“Well, who can blame them?” Lee thinks out loud. “Those people have only experienced terror and disaster from guys of my origin. So why should they help us?”

Richard only grunts in response, placing even more of his weight on Lee’s supporting arm. He wouldn’t be able to stand for much longer.

Lee already goes through the emergency steps regarding how to cauterise an open wound when he notices a certain house. Contrary to the other, completely destroyed buildings around them, this house seems to still be more or less intact. Though the façade is riddled with bullet holes and is crumbled in several places, the windows and doors are unbroken. They also don’t seem to match properly – just like people had tried to repair the building with the remaining resources they had.

Lee walks up to the house, carefully setting Richard down on the steps in front of it. “Wait here for a sec, I’ll try to find a doctor.”

Richard just nods weakly, too tired for a proper answer.

“There’s no more time to waste,” Lee mutters to himself as he unbuckles his pistol from his belt. “I have to find help ASAP.” He knows he won’t have time to ask the doctor for help politely. Richard is on the verge of bleeding out and Lee has no scruples to carry everything to the limit to help his friend.

Lee enters the house, cocking his gun. The first room is empty, only a few mattresses are lying on the floor, some of them blotched with blood stains. ’ _I seem to be in the correct place_ ,’ Lee notes with relief and moves further down the hall.

In the next room, he finds an old man with crutches, two little boys, and a woman with a bandaged arm, all sitting on metal beds. They look up at him in shock as he enters the place with his gun pointed at them. The woman lets out a terrified gasp, so Lee lowers his pistol immediately. He thinks about their situation for a moment, deciding that they don’t seem to be severely hurt – they will have to wait now. He points at the door leading outside and yells “Sarak!”, the Pashto word for _street_ , motioning for them go leave. Thankfully, they understand him and hurry outside as quickly as they can. Lee apologises mentally for his impertinence.

When the room is empty, Lee keeps walking into the back of the house. A door swings open suddenly and an elderly man with glasses and a surprisingly groomed appearance emerges from behind it. He is holding two little bottles in his hand, dropping them in surprise.

Lee points his gun at the man and asks “Dokter?” He is glad that he at least remembers a little Pashto, and he is grateful that their word for _doctor_ sounds so similar to the English word.

The man nods quickly.

“Do you understand my language?” Lee presses on.

Again, the man nods, this time a little more hesitantly. But it’s enough for Lee. He grabs the man’s upper arm and pushes him towards the exit where he tells him to help Richard get up and into the house. Lee bolts the door immediately after them.

They bring Richard into the room where the other four patients had been only a few minutes ago. Lee helps Richard lie down on one of the beds.

“My friend has been stabbed,” Lee explains. “Tend to it.” His gun is still pointed at the man. It would be better if the doctor thinks them dangerous – he would cooperate that way.

“No. I not help dirty Americans,” the man says stubbornly, spitting at the floor in front of Lee’s feet.

Lee winces inwardly. Just now of all times they have to run into someone who isn’t scared by the terror of war, but is rather been made rough by it.

“Listen,” Lee says with deadly seriousness. “I know very well what kind of pain and harm you had to go through, and I know as well that nothing can make up for what has happened. But I myself have been going through pain and sorrow. There are always victims on both sides – and I’m sure that you want to prevent more people from suffering. This man is my friend, and I will not tolerate him dying in my care. You can help him, and you _will_ help him – or I swear to God, you’ll bitterly regret it.” Lee’s voice is full of grim determination, but there is a certain despair in his eyes that the doctor can see as well.

He seems to understand him, and he looks at Richard hesitantly. Richard still breathes with regularity, but his eyes had already fallen shut.

“If you live, my people will die,” the doctor protests again.

“If you don’t help my friend, your people will die anyway because you’ll be dead as well,” Lee retorts, barely holding back the anger in his voice.

“Fine. I help,” the doctor finally says, bending down to examine Richard’s wound.

Lee slumps down on the bed next to Richard, sighing with relief. “I thank you,” he says, and he means it, but he only gets the doctor’s grim stare as an answer.

Lee keeps the weapon in his hand, watching the physician work.

The doctor loosens the makeshift bandage Lee has wrapped around Richard’s flanks and the knife on their way to the city. Blood is still seeping out of the wound and Lee has to turn his head away from the sight. The doctor pulls out the knife, careful not to destroy any major blood vessels, then grabs a few clean tissues from the cupboard in the room, pressing them to the wound. Richard opens his eyes a little, trying to orient himself at first, but then he spies Lee and relaxes somewhat. Lee smiles at him reassuringly – everything is going to be okay now.

The doctor begins to clean the wound. Lee frantically tries to ignore his lack of sensitivity and empathy.

“Get pressure bandage from cupboard!”

Lee immediately jumps up to follow the doctor’s order, fetching three long bandages and handing them to the doctor.

“Up,” is the next order, and Lee understands, pushing his arms under Richard’s arm pits and lifting him into an upright position so the doctor can apply the pressure bandage. Lee is glad that Richard still is fully conscious, but he does worry about the fact that he cannot hold himself upright by himself anymore. And there was an unnerving paleness under all the dirty spots on Richard’s face…

“Hang in there, Richard,” Lee softly whispers into his ear, not sure if he can hear him at all. “You can’t abandon me now.” He is growing more desperate with every passing second.

“Man has lost lots of blood,” the doctor declares matter-of-factly, jolting Lee out of his thoughts. “He not survive if he don’t get new blood.”

Something in Lee clenches, cold shivers run down his back. But he tries to not show his fear in front of the doctor, he cannot appear weak, so he swallows hard and asks: “What can we do?”

“Your blood type. Which?”

“Er… O, I think,” Lee says with a little hesitation, only slowly understanding what the doctor is playing at. “You want me to give him my blood?”

The doctor just shrugs. “No-one else here.”

Lee falters for a moment – not because he doesn’t want to donate his blood to Richard, but because it would be terribly dangerous to trust that man who hates him. Besides, a blood transfusion would weaken Lee as well, and if there was one thing Richard and he didn’t need, it was both of them too fragile to go on. ’ _On the other hand we don’t have a choice, do we?_ ’ Lee thinks, looking at Richard. ’ _Worst case would be both of us dying. I guess I can live with that_ ,’ he thinks with a self-mocking frown. “Fine. Get what you need.”

The doctor disappears into the next room, rummaging around in his cupboards. Lee listens to the noise while bending over to cup Richard’s face carefully – he is so cold. Too cold. “Hey. Hey, Richard, can you hear me?” he says softly, patting his cheek carefully.

Richard looks at him from tired eyes and smiles weakly. “Are we home yet?”

“No, you goof!” Lee laughs. “You lost a lot of blood, so you’ll need mine to get back on your feet.”

“Thought you were the vampire,” Richard says, genuinely confused. “Shouldn’t _you_ get _my_ blood?”

Lee can only sigh as the memory of their joking around about vampires a few days ago. The blood loss must have made Richard dizzy and light-headed. “We’ll transfuse my blood into your body, okay? There’s no other option.”

Richard regards him for a moment. It takes a while until the words sink in. “Is that going to work?”

“It _will_ work, I’m sure of that, don’t worry,” Lee says, trying to sound as convincing as possible, putting all the confidence he can muster into the answer.

Richard looks at him a little doubtingly but replies, “Do what you think is best. I trust you.”

Lee nods at him with a serious expression, tracing the outline of Richard’s face one last time when the doctor returns with his set of instruments for blood transfusions.

Without saying a word he secures Lee’s left upper arm with a thin belt, then disinfects the crook of his arm thoroughly. When he is satisfied with the preparations, he pricks the cleaned spot with a butterfly needle, fixing it with a bit of tape. Lee calms down a little, reassured by the doctor’s professional and practised way of drawing blood.

The doctor proceeds to prepare Richard as well, then ties both of them together with a makeshift hose system. It’s not the proper way of doing it, Lee knows that. Technically, some of his blood should be put into an infusion bag, diluted with a little water, and then it should be carefully pumped into Richard’s veins – but that procedure would take too long and every second counts now. To ensure that none of Richard’s blood enters Lee’s system, Lee has to stand, holding his arm almost above his head.

He opens and closes his fist a couple of times to push the blood faster through the tubes. His other hand still holds the pistol, pointed at the doctor. After Lee is certain that the blood transfusion runs as it should, he motions for the physician to sit down at the opposite wall.

And then, nothing is left but wait and pray, waiting for Richard to recover and his face to turn a healthy colour again, praying that they wouldn’t be attacked in that situation.

The first couple of hours pass without any complications. Richard dozed off shortly after the blood transfusion was initiated and is now breathing regularly. Lee is happy to see him sleep, who knows if there would come a time in the next few days when he might rest sufficiently.

The doctor is quiet and obedient, and Lee even gets him to fetch him something to drink because the donation of blood made him a little weak, as expected. Most of the time, however, Lee listens carefully for potential noise from the outside. Should a car come closer or should he hear voices, they would have to disappear as quickly as possible.

Suddenly, someone knocks at the front door. Lee flinches and grabs the grip of his pistol even tighter. The doctor looks at him questioningly but doesn’t move.

“Stay quiet,” Lee hisses, hoping the man outside would disappear on his own. Two more knocks follow, and a male voice calls a name inquiringly – most likely the name of the doctor.

“Answer him,” Lee orders the doctor quietly, pointing his gun back at him. “Tell him you closed the doctor’s office because you’re unwell. Don’t you _dare_ cry for help.”

The doctor nods understandingly, barking out an answer in Pashto. He helpfully coughs a couple of times to make his response sound more convincing. The man at the door asks something again, but the doctor replies in the negative, judging from the tone of his voice. Eventually, he calls out a farewell. The stranger disappears and Lee relaxes his tensed muscles. He nods at the doctor, satisfied, and resumes his position next to Richard’s bed.

After two and a half more hours of silent waiting, the doctor gets up again and pulls out the tube in Lee’s arm. “Is enough,” he says and bandages Lee’s elbow. He does the same to Richard and sits back down against the wall.

Lee is tired, but they cannot possibly stay here any longer. He would have paid good money to let Richard sleep, especially because the colour had returned to his cheeks, but it just isn’t possible. The sun is already setting, they have to leave, so Lee wakes Richard up gently.

“How are you feeling?” Lee asks when Richard is finally looking at him again.

“Me? You’re asking _me_?” he asks, baffled. “Do you have any idea how fucked up _you_ look?”

“Cheers, buddy, that’s just what I needed to hear right now,” Lee says with fake anger. He knows that the large amount of blood taken from his body has left its mark on him. He can imagine perfectly how pale and tired he must look now – just like Richard only a few hours ago. “Come on, let’s get outta here. We’ve been here for too long already,” Lee replies, ignoring Richard’s worried expression.

“What about the doctor?” Richard asks.

“We’ll tie him up and gag him. Someone will come looking for him tomorrow,” Lee says, already looking for something he might use for fettering the man. He moves too quickly, however, and suddenly, everything goes black. A pair of strong arms prevent him from falling.

“Lee, why do you have to overdo everything?” Richard says chidingly. “lie down for a moment, I’ll take care of the doctor.”

Lee doesn’t protest and sinks down on the bed, pressed down by Richard. “I’ll never donate blood again,” Lee mumbles, trying to fight the dizziness by shutting his eyes. He hears Richard tying the doctor to a chair, and all too soon Richard is finished. Lee moan – he has been missing the feeling of a soft mattress, and he really doesn’t want to get up. With a last wistful sigh he gets up, though, and follows Richard outside, into the broken dusk.

“Where are we going?” he asks, and Richard points down the road they’re walking on.

“I’ve seen a store when we came to the city. We need some supplies for the rest of our journey,” he explains and takes a turn to the right. Lee follows him.

The door of the store is ajar. The people around here have probably grown careless, and understandably so. If Richard was in their place, he would worry about more important things, too. So Lee and Richard sneak inside quietly. They are not planning on stealing a lot, just basic things, really – for one, they cannot possibly carry a lot of stuff, and besides, the people here need food and water more than they do. So Richard grabs two water bottles, and Lee hides some frozen sandwiches under his shirt.

~*~

They leave the ruined city the same evening.

Lee seems to be still blaming himself for the fate of the town, but Richard just doesn’t have the patience for this now. He is happy that their wounds have been tended to properly, and now he is on the lookout for both a shelter for the night, and the right track.

“I think I’ve found a good spot! Not too far away. Come on, Lee!” Richard urges him on, but all of a sudden, stars start appearing in front of his eyes, his head _hurts_ and he feels dizzy. He starts to sway, and suddenly, Lee’s arms are around his waist, steadying him.

“Woah, Richard,” he whispers. “Careful. Are you okay?”

“Not really,” Richard heaves out. “The transfusion… must have… oh God, I need to sit down.”

Lee gently lowers him onto the sand and Richard lets his head drop against the ground. “D'you think it weakened your circular flow?” Lee asks, softly feeling Richard’s brow.

Richard just nods, then gropes around his large trouser pockets for the water bottle they stole in the store. He sits up with a little difficulty, opens the bottle with trembling hands and greedily gulps down the water. Lee is unscrewing his own bottle, handing it to Richard. With a thankful smile he takes it, but another boost of dizziness hits him and he falls back down, spilling the water everywhere.

Lee’s face hardens. “You better now?”

“I guess,” Richard asks and stumbles to his feet with a lot of effort, and Lee doesn’t help him either. Richard struggles to walk towards the place he had seen a few minutes ago, to find shelter.

Lee stops several steps behind him and Richard turns to look for him. He might have been injured a little more severe than previously thought, perhaps the blood donation made it worse, maybe he is too weak to go on. But instead of seeing Lee crouching on the ground, Richard turns to find him clenching his fists, his jaw muscles working rapidly, his chest heaving.

“Lee, are you alright?” Richard carefully steps closer, frowning. Lee doesn’t reply.

“Lee,” Richard tries again, extending a hand and gently brushing his shoulder, and this is when Lee _snaps_. He whirls around, panting, and staring at Richard with a look that makes his blood run cold.

“No, I’m _not fucking alright_ ,” he yells, kicking against a stone on the ground, half-buried by desert sand. “We’re _lost_ in the middle of _fucking nowhere_ , we’ve got nothing to eat, nothing to drink, you fucked up my mission, I’m hurt, we’re on the run, we are attacked by fucking terrorists and the worst thing is – I’m fucking stuck with _you_. You spilled our _last water_ , you scumbag! Just because you had to go and get yourself stabbed. And you _dare_ ask me if I’m _alright_?”

Richard takes a step back, frightened. Lee’s voice is booming through the desert, so deep and full of anger and sadness. He’s never seen him like this before. Lee is shaking with frustration, but Richard can see tears glistening on his cheeks. Fear turns into helplessness and compassion, and he wants to take Lee into his arms and tell him everything will be okay – but he doesn’t.

“I’m not _alright_ ,” Lee yells again, this time even louder than before, and suddenly he’s at Richard’s throat, one hand tightening around his neck while the other starts hitting him with full force in his face, his stomach, everywhere Lee can reach. He throws Richard down on the ground and he feels a sharp pain in his spine, travelling up to his head and the world goes dark for a second. Then his vision is back, he feels another blow to his stomach, dangerously close to his solar plexus and he feels sick and he can’t move because Lee is sitting on his chest, straddling him with his legs, and it rains punch after punch after punch. It’s not until Richard tastes the metallic taste of his own blood in his mouth that he finally reacts.

He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head once to clear the cobwebs away and then grabs the wrist of the hand Lee’s punching him with and holds it tightly up above his head. He can hear Lee grunt something like “ouch”, and Richard is aware he’s hurting him, he’s crushing Lee’s pulse point between his fingers in a dead-iron grip, after all, but he doesn’t give in. With his now free left hand he reaches for Lee’s other wrist that is still wrapped loosely around his throat, and he brings it up as well, holding both hands in place now, then shifts his body and rolls them around. This all happens in a matter of seconds, and Lee doesn’t even realise what is going on until _he_ suddenly is the one lying on the ground, with Richard on his chest.

“You fucking _bastard_ ,” Lee swears, trying to wriggle his hands free from Richard’s grip, but he doesn’t succeed. He lets out an ear-piercing shout, thrashing about with his legs and kicking Richard hard in the back with his knees. “I hate you,” he screams, “ _I fucking hate you!_ ” He keeps on squirming under Richard’s weight, kicking, fighting, not giving up.

“Calm down,” Richard says quietly but with a certain force in his voice, but Lee just shoots him a glare and continues mauling Richard’s back.

“Never,” he growls. “Let me go! Fucking _let me go already_!” His kneecap hits Richard in the spine, just above the pelvis and he groans in pain. “I fucking trusted you, you asshole,” Lee roars, “I wouldn’t even _be_ in this fucking situation without you! Who do you think you are, _let me go_!”

Richard is still hunched over a little, the pain in his lower back now spreading to his shoulder blades, and Lee uses the moment of weakness to free one hand and grasp the collar of Richard’s shirt, scratching at his neck in the process. Lee keeps on cursing Richard and if he’s quite honest with himself, this hurts more than his back.

“I wish I’d never met you,” Lee says, “I wish you were _dead!_ ” His hand shoots up to punch Richard’s face, but Richard reflexively grabs Lee’s wrist again, brings it up over his head where he still holds the other, takes both wrists with one hand and then grabs Lee’s chin forcefully. Following an impulse, he crashes their lips together violently, resulting in a bruising kiss with way too much teeth and way too much force, but it’s a kiss, it’s human contact, and that’s what they both need at the moment to stay grounded.

They kiss for a while, and Richard eventually lets go of Lee’s wrists, his hand coming down to cup his cheek, digging his fingernails into the soft skin under Lee’s ear. Lee’s fingers grab hold of Richard’s shirt, he seems to cling to him for dear life, and when he crushes their chests together, he momentarily knocks the air out of Richard’s lungs.

Richard runs the tip of his tongue over Lee’s bottom lip, then catches it between his teeth, a little too hard maybe, but neither seem to care. Lee’s mouth opens under his, and Richard tilts his head sideways a little, sliding his tongue between Lee’s lips, and Lee moans and presses closer to Richard, hips tilted upwards in a desperate search for friction, and Richard can feel him so, so close and he cannot help but moan as well. Their noses bump every now and then, their lips frantically locked in a slobbery, wet, heated, open-mouthed kiss that couldn’t be more perfect. It’s quiet around them, the only thing they hear is their ragged breathing, the smacking of their lips, the clicking of their teeth, the soft gasps filling the air.

Their embrace is getting more intimate by the second, with Richard leaning down more and more until his chest comes to rest on Lee’s. His knees start to hurt and Lee somehow seems to sense it, because his legs open up for Richard to lie down between them, and they’re _oh so close_. Richard feels one of Lee’s hands travelling down to his bottom, and his breath hitches when Lee squeezes. Without thinking, Richard slides his right arm under the small of Lee’s back and lifts it a little, pressing their hips together in a heated movement.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” he hears Lee groan into his mouth, teeth grazing his bottom lip the very next second. A shiver runs through Richard’s body, electrifying him, his toes curl in the tight shoes, and he presses his own hips down against Lee’s with more force. Richard can feel him hard against his hip bone, and he realises he is just as aroused as Lee is.

Their kisses are getting more and more erratic, it’s just a slide of lips now, sometimes meeting, sometimes pressing against a chin or a nose or a cheek. Richard’s breathing becomes frantic, uncontrolled, his heart is hammering against his rib cage. He digs his fingers into the warm desert sand, gasps, sweats, shifts, touches Lee’s face and neck and hair, and he just doesn’t know what is going on anymore. He’s losing himself in the sensation of their two heated bodies pressed against each other, of Lee’s tongue sliding against his own.

He hasn’t felt like this in a long time.

The pressure between their legs gets too delicious, too tempting, and when Lee presses himself upwards against Richard to create even more tension, Richard groans, starting to rock against Lee’s pelvis in hungry, wanton movements. Lee whimpers underneath him, making Richard’s heart beat faster. He speeds up, establishing a quick rhythm, and with every thrust, Lee’s moans become more frenetic, higher-pitched, desperate, coarse.

Something starts to shift in Richard’s body all of a sudden. His skin tingles, thrusting against Lee’s hardness almost hurts – but it’s a good kind of pain, bitter-sweet, and so _good_ that he can’t hold back. He’s close, he knows it, and he can’t stop himself from slamming down onto Lee’s hips even harder. Lee doesn’t complain, he speeds up with him, and then he whimpers again and moans “Richard” and then goes limp all of a sudden, still clinging onto Richard, pressing kisses to his cheek and jaw and mouth, and that’s enough to push Richard over the edge.

The world goes blissfully white for a moment, he bites his lip when a wave of pleasure washes over him, pulsing through his veins, sliding into his legs, toes, belly, chest. Behind his closed eyes he sees Lee. Just Lee.

They both slump down at the same time, and Richard brushes the hair from Lee’s sweaty brow before capturing his lips in another passionate kiss, and it just feels so right to lie here with him, so close, so trusting. His chest swells with a feeling he cannot quite place – but he likes the sensation of it.

Eventually, their kiss grows slower, more gentle, but nonetheless passionate. It’s just a play of lips on lips now, melting against the other, locked in an embrace that gives both of them a feeling of security, of belonging and love and affection.

When they part for air, Richard closes his eyes and touches his forehead to Lee’s, inhaling deeply. He reaches behind him to grab one of Lee’s hands gently, interlocking their fingers. Silence falls between them, but Richard’s eyes fly open as soon as he hears a noise akin to sobbing.

Lee angles his head away from Richard, eyes squeezed shut, his face distorted in pain, chest heaving rhythmically, tears rolling down his cheeks. He’s crying.

“Hey,” Richard whispers, cradling Lee’s face gently between his hands and turning his head. “Look at me, Lee.” When the other man doesn’t react, he presses a soft kiss to his brow, the bridge of his nose, his lips. “Look at me. _Please_.”

The desperation in Richard’s voice makes Lee open his eyes. He blinks once, twice, staring up at Richard through blurry eyes. The blind anger has faded from them, only a dazed look is left, accentuated by the still wet traces the tears left on his cheeks. His hair is ruffled, one errant strand falling into his eye. His bottom lip is dry and split, a drop of blood runs down his chin.

He looks broken.

Something in Richard’s chest clenches, it pains him to see Lee like that. “I wish I could make you feel better,” he mumbles, gently trailing a finger over Lee’s cheek.

Lee lets out another sob, covering his mouth with his hand. “I’m so sorry, Richard,” he manages to say, his voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to… I never… I didn’t want to _hurt_ you.”

“It’s okay,” Richard replies, and it _is_. “Don’t beat yourself up about this. I understand why you did that. I feel the same. It’s just too much out here.”

Lee exhales shakily. “That doesn’t justify -”

Richard interrupts him, putting a finger on his mouth. “We’re good, Lee. We are.” And with that, he leans forward to place a butterfly kiss on his top lip, gentle and sweet, and he hopes it will convey all the emotions that he does not dare say out loud. Lee hesitantly kisses back, his bottom lip just barely meeting Richard’s, but it’s all they need now.

It’s fine. _They_ are fine.

“It’s going to be okay,” Richard whispers against Lee’s trembling lips, but he doesn’t know if he’s saying it to reassure Lee, or if he’s also saying it to himself. Lee doesn’t reply, but he wraps his arms around Richard’s shoulders tightly, burying his nose in the crook of Richard’s neck, and Richard holds him close. “I’m here,” he murmurs, running a hand over Lee’s back. “I’ll always be.”

That night, they fall asleep with their limbs tangled and Lee’s face buried against Richard’s chest, and when the sun goes up again, Richard kisses Lee awake – and for once, the world seems right again.

~*~

Richard is woken by a not very gentle kick to the small of his back and a cold voice saying “Get up, we’ve gotta go.” He rubs his eyes sleepily, and it takes him a while until he realises that Lee has already put out the fire and is eager to leave their spot. Before Richard can get to his feet, Lee has already walked a little further at a brisk pace and Richard has to hurry to catch up to him. He wonders what’s wrong with him all of a sudden. Has he made a mistake? Was Lee angry with him because of… yesterday night?

He wants to ask Lee but he cannot bring himself to do so, too scared of what Lee might answer. But Lee seems to be occupied by something else, anyway. He stops dead in his tracks all of a sudden and turns, saying “We’ve got no food” in a quite angry voice.

Richard cannot deny that he is quite happy Lee hasn’t brought up their activities from last night, and since he seems to be hungry, Richard decides that that might be the reason for Lee’s bad mood. “Yeah, I’m pretty hungry,” Richard says, patting his tummy. “I could scoff a whole elk.”

“Why do you dislike elks?” Lee asks, staring at Richard annoyed.

“I didn’t say I _disliked_ them,” Richard protests. “I just said I could wolf one down because I’m that hungry. Why are you so touchy today?”

“I’m not touchy,” Lee says stubbornly. “Just – catch us a rabbit or something. And be quick about it.”

“I like rabbits,” Richard complains quietly. “And besides, there are no rabbits in Afghanistan.”

Lee throws his hands in the air. “Then catch us something else. A bat or a rat or whatever animal runs around here.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” Richard asks, now getting a bit annoyed as well.

“For fuck’s sake, you’ve got a _gun_ , man. Shoot it, skin it, put it in a stew. Whatever. What’s so hard about that?” Lee stares at him angrily.

“If it’s that easy,” Richard growls, “do it yourself.” What has happened to Lee all of a sudden? Where is that sweet, kind guy that has trusted him so much last night?

“Fine,” Lee spits back and stalks off, sulkily looking for some small edible thing on the ground. Richard is slowly walking behind him, not wanting to be close to him right now. Lee is having a hard time finding something but eventually, he lets out a cry and draws his gun. Richard doesn’t eve _see_ an animal when Lee starts shooting at the ground randomly, and he starts cursing when he doesn’t hit his target. “Fucking rat,” he yells, “come out of your hole in the ground, I want to eat you!”

The rat doesn’t want to be eaten, it seems, and Richard watches Lee jumping about from afar. It’s a rather funny sight, and he has to grin, but deep down, he still is worried about Lee’s sudden change of mind.

“There you are!” Lee cries suddenly and flops down on the ground, wrapping his hands around a small little thing. “Gotcha!” With a triumphant smile he gets up and steps closer to Richard. “I’ve found food. Now skin it.”

“I never skinned an animal in my life,” Richard says defensively. “And I don’t want to.”

“Don’t you learn that stuff at the MI6?” Lee asks accusingly, shoving the little rat into Richard’s hands. It tries to bite him, but its teeth are so small that it’s merely a tickle.

“Don’t _you_ learn that at the CIA?” Richard fires back, handing the rat back to Lee.

“No, because I live in a _city_ and New York is not such a hicksville as London is!” The rat changes hands again.

“Ex _cuse_ me?” Richard yells. “What did you just say about London? You’ve always got rats on the streets, London’s clean, you should know how to cook a rat!”

Lee is close to punching Richard in the face, but instead, he contends himself with jumping at him and throwing him to the ground. Reflexively, Richard throws his arms backward to try and catch himself and the rat escapes. With Lee hovering over him, they both look at the little animal running away, then blink at each other stupidly.

“It was too small anyway,” Richard says quietly. “We wouldn’t have been sated.”

“And it was cute, too,” Lee mutters.

“Yeah.”

Lee helps Richard get up and dusts off his clothes. “Let’s see if we can find something else to eat.”

The day goes on rather mildly. They don’t really talk to each other but Lee seems to have calmed down somewhat. He even smiles at Richard when he finally founds some cacti fruit they can share. When the sun is starting to sink, they found shelter underneath a large, withered tree and settled down, exhausted, eating the last of the cacti fruit in silence. No matter how hard Richard tries, Lee just won’t talk to him. So Richard eventually tries to fall asleep, closing his eyes and trying to get comfortable, when Lee’s voice suddenly wakes him up again.

“Why did you kiss me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! And thank you sososososososososososososo much for all the sweet comments!! We are going to publish, btw... all thanks to you guys! Your support is just so amazing!!!!!!! ♥  
> (And... did you get the reference? :p)  
> Oh and for the record - blackbird, yuuwakuu... this is not the only and not the hottest scene. Just. Just FYI. ;)


	7. The Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blooming love can be so easily destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, the most intimate scene of this story. It's my first scene like this, ever, so please be kind q.q  
> And oh GOD, a /huge/ thank-you and kisses and hugs from both attichen and me - you guys are amazing! We almost hit 100 kudos and I just ahjkhhfjshjdhjhakjdhk. Thank you! We can't thank you enough!  
> Enjoy! (And look at the perfection that is attichen's manip.)

“Why did you kiss me?” Lee asks that night when they are trying to fall asleep, turning to his side to face Richard.

“What?” Richard stares up at him, utterly thunderstruck. They hadn’t talked about their… outburst of emotions ever since it happened last night, especially since Lee had been in a foul mood all day, and honestly, he didn’t expect Lee to bring this up again. Things had been a little awkward as it was, anyway. Whenever they bumped each other’s shoulders accidentally when walking, both of them started blushing. Conversations were not very long, both of them afraid to say something wrong.

“You heard me perfectly well,” Lee mumbles, drawing circles in the sand. “Why did you kiss me back when… you know.”

“I…” Richard is at a loss for words. His mind is blank, he can’t for the life of him think of something to say. “It just felt right.”

“Do you just go around kissing strangers because it feels right to you?”

“No!” Richard sounds offended in a way. “No, I don’t. I hardly kiss people as it is, and definitely no strangers.”

Lee coughs. “So why did you kiss _me_ , then?” He looks at him, and in this moment Richard thinks he can see right into his soul.

“I really, honestly, do not know,” he replies. “I have a _hunch_ , but I don’t know if it’s correct or not.” He shrugs.

“Tell me,” Lee says.

Richard sighs deeply. He senses that he won’t catch any sleep that night. “Lee… this isn’t easy for me, okay? I still don’t know what came over me, it was just as surprising, but something in my body just _told_ me to do it.”

“Right.”

“I don’t… I…” Richard looks for words that could express what he felt in that very moment, but his tongue doesn’t want to cooperate. He groans in frustration and slams his fist down into the sand.

“Hey,” he hears Lee whisper, and a warm hand sneaks up to cover his. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to get angry over this. Y'know what, just forget it, okay? Forget I asked.”

“ _No_ ,” Richard protests. “I’m not angry. I just don’t know how to explain. It’s like … imagine if I asked you why you kissed me _back_.”

Lee is quiet. “Touché,” he murmurs after a while.

Richard huffs a laugh. “I’m terrible with things like this, Lee,” he admits. “I mean, what do you want me to say? That I fell in love with you, head over heels? And that that’s the reason why I forced you into snogging with me?” He sighs. “It felt right because I wanted to calm you down. It felt right because you looked like you needed some closure, some warmth, and I needed that, too. And I wanted to show you that I like you. That I care for you.”

Lee frowns. “Because you pitied me? Because I looked needy?”

He sounds upset, and Richard hurries to deny that. “No, Lee, don’t even think that! I kissed you because I wanted to. Not because I thought you needed to be pitied.”

Lee turns to lie on his back and stares up at the sky above them. “There’s the moon,” he says quietly, and Richard blinks in confusion at the quick change of topic.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks.

Lee hums in agreement. “There is this sort of quote,” he says in a low voice, “about the sun and the moon. Maybe you know it.”

“Tell me,” Richard whispers.

“ _And the Moon loved the Sun so much that he died every night to let her breathe_.”

Silence settles between them, with Richard trying to grasp what Lee has just said, to understand the implication behind those words.

Lee turns his head and looks at him again. “Would you die for someone you love?”

“If it leads to my loved one’s happiness and well-being, then yes,” Richard answers honestly. “Though it would pain me to leave them.”

“Hm,” Lee muses. After a while, he adds, “When I was isolated, I promised myself to keep fighting for your sake. So that I could make sure you get out of there alive. I’d die for you, you know.”

A lump forms in Richard’s throat.

Lee exhales and keeps his eyes fixed on the moon above them. “I suppose that was the reason I kissed you back.”

Richard does not reply. Even if he wanted to, he wouldn’t know what to say. There is so much meaning in every word Lee has said, and Richard needs some time to decode it for himself. He knows that, deep down, he feels the same. So he leans over to cup Lee’s cheek, then softly touches his lips to Lee’s.

It feels like a first kiss all over again, soft and sweet, and a little hesitant. Lips slide against lips gently, and Richard takes in Lee’s scent, his warmth, his soft stubble grazing his skin, and he can feel Lee relaxing into the kiss. All the awkward tension flies away in this moment, and it’s just them, and it feels right.

It’s just them, two stereo heart beats, one rhythm, and a mix of emotions, warming them, holding them, enchanting them. Fingers touching, hands exploring, bodies moving, and lips kissing, kissing, kissing. Noses bumping, toes curling, hearts beating quicker and quicker. Soft gasps echo through the fresh night air.

It’s all too much, yet not enough.

Richard wants more, wants to get to know Lee, inside and out. Touch him, kiss him, feel him, explore every inch of him. He _wants_ Lee, he cannot deny that, but there is more to this than just attraction. He had a reason for kissing him, he knows that, but for now, things can be left unsaid. What is important in this very moment is Lee. Their closeness. And the passion shooting through his veins.

And he can see it in Lee’s eyes, too.

Acting upon an impulse, Richard trails his hand down Lee’s throat, then dips his head to nip at the soft skin of Lee’s neck. Lee arches underneath him, hands flying up to Richard’s shoulder blades to press him tight against his chest. Richard leans up to kiss him passionately, touching his tongue softly to Lee’s lips which open up for him. He moans softly as his tongue touches Lee’s.

Richard starts lifting the hem of Lee’s shirt, slipping his hands underneath and running them over the muscled belly, up to his toned pectorals and down his sides again. Lee starts squirming. “Are you ticklish?” Richard asks teasingly against Lee’s lips, and Lee playfully bites down on his bottom lip in response.

“Shut up,” he retorts, and Richard smiles.

When Richard lets his hands travel back up to Lee’s shoulders, taking the shirt with him, Lee readily lifts his arms over his head and Richard takes his shirt off in one swift movement. He doesn’t even realise what’s going on, he is just acting on instinct – until Lee smirks up at him and says, “Your turn now.”

His heart is hammering in his chest as surprisingly gentle fingers tug at Richard’s shirt, and when the cool desert air hits his bare back, he shivers. Lee pulls off his shirt as well, throwing it carelessly into the sand next to them, then presses himself against Richard’s chest and kisses him. Richard wraps one arm around Lee, holding him close, supporting himself with the other arm, while Lee’s fingers caress Richard’s upper body, drawing invisible lines everywhere they go. Goosebumps rise on Richard’s skin, and it’s in this moment that he realises how _lucky_ he actually is. To be this close to this man is a privilege, it’s bordering on a miracle, and he would give anything to make this moment last forever.

He lowers his head from Lee’s mouth to his collarbones, softly biting at the delicate skin with his teeth, then showering Lee’s chest and belly with kisses and caresses, and Lee’s hands are in his hair, tugging and pulling, and it’s the best feeling Richard has experienced in a long time.

Richard kisses every bit of Lee’s skin that he can reach, and judging from Lee’s soft gasps, he enjoys it as much as Richard does. Richard’s fingers slide over Lee’s upper body, caressing and tickling, and when Richard swirls his tongue teasingly around Lee’s navel, Lee whimpers. Richard spies a thin little trail of dark hair leading into Lee’s trousers, and his mouth goes dry.

He wants nothing more than to follow that trail, to kiss and to nip and to explore, but he does not dare to do it. He can feel his heart beat violently in his throat, his fingers tremble a little.

“Why’d you stop?” Lee murmurs softly.

“Are you… are you sure you want this?” Richard asks, his fingers hovering hesitantly over Lee’s belt. Lee looks up at him, then smiles. “Yes. I am.” And with that he presses Richard’s hand down on his belly, and Richard exhales shakily before letting his fingers travel underneath the fabric of Lee’s trousers slowly. Lee’s eyes flutter shut and his breathing speeds up a little as Richard lets his finger slip under Lee’s pants in a gentle motion. His fingertips touch the soft skin carefully, and Richard can feel that Lee is just as aroused as he is, and the imagination alone turns him on even more.

He pulls his hand away for a minute, and Lee complains with a little grunt, but Richard shuts him up with a soft kiss while he is taking off his trousers and underwear. When Lee realises what he is doing, his pupils dilate and he licks his lips, spreading his legs for Richard to lie between them. With a smile, Richard positions himself between Lee’s legs, and slides his hand under Lee’s pants again.

Lee’s mouth drops open at Richard’s gentle touch, and he mumbles “More” so quietly that Richard almost doesn’t understand. “More,” he repeats a little louder, hips jerking upward into Richard’s hand.

Richard zips Lee’s fly open quickly, tugging at his pants and trousers until they are pooling around his ankles. Lee helpfully lifts a leg to shake them off, then pulls Richard flush against him. Hot skin on hot skin, Richard gasps out. He feels Lee’s hand travel down to his buttocks, squeezing, then he runs his fingertips over the delicate skin. Richard moans.

Richard pushes himself up on his elbow, regarding Lee with a curious expression. One of Lee’s eyes blinks open. “What are you doing?”

“Looking at you,” Richard says with a smile, trailing a finger down Lee’s cheek absent-mindedly.

“Yeah, I can see that. But why?” It’s rather obvious that Lee would prefer to continue what they had been doing, but Richard wants to take his time. He wants to look at Lee, take in everything, and he lets his gaze roam over the well-toned body under him. When he looks up, Lee is blushing. “Stop that,” he whispers.

“You’re beautiful, Lee,” Richard whispers, softly kissing Lee’s lips, and Lee reciprocates after a little hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Lee answers. “It’s just… what you said…”

“That I think you’re beautiful?”

“Yeah. That.” Lee puts his hand atop Richard’s gently. “That was nice.”

Richard smiles and leans down for another kiss. They haven’t kissed each other very often, but it already feels like they have done this hundreds of times already. Richard loves kissing Lee, loves the feeling of his soft lips on his own, pliant and warm and lush, and he realises he is getting kind of addicted to their kisses.

Their kiss doesn’t stay soft and tender for long, however. It’s Lee who touches his tongue to Richard’s lips, and when Richard parts his lips, Lee brushes his tongue along Richard’s almost immediately. Their kiss is growing heated, they are panting heavily now, desperate for more contact.

He feels Lee taking him into his hands, and the sensation is almost enough to push him over the edge right there, right then. “Wait, wait, wait,” he pants out, “I want to last a little longer”, but Lee just laughs and flicks his wrist just like _that_ and Richard’s elbows give out, and with a gasp he collapses flush against Lee. “Don’t do that again,” he growls, but Lee does – of course – and Richard has to bite his lip to keep himself from screaming out loud. “Okay, okay, I eat my words, please _do that again_ ,” he begs, because it just feels so good, but this time, Lee doesn’t. Instead he pushes Richard up, rolls them around, and then suddenly he is on top, leaving a trail of kisses from Richard’s neck down to his loins.

Lee presses soft, teasing kisses to the inside of Richard’s thighs, running his fingers up and down the smooth skin, making Richard shiver. Lee’s lips travels up and Richard throws an arm over his eyes. “Oh _God_.” He knows what’s coming, and when Lee lowers his head to take Richard into his mouth, he cannot hold back. It’s too delicious, seeing Lee like that, eyes fixed on Richard, rosy lips wrapped around him, a tongue swirling expertly around him, and he lets out a cry of pleasure. He can feel Lee smirking around him.

“Wait,” Richard warns before he gets too close. “Wait, Lee, please.”

Lee stops his movement, but keeps his lips wrapped around Richard. He has to groan at the sight of that. “I want to come inside you,” he says with a growl, and Lee’s eyes go wide. “If… if that’s alright with you,” Richard adds and Lee just looks at him and then rolls to lie on his side, pulling Richard with him.

“Of course that’s alright with me,” he says, his voice a hoarse whisper, his eyes glinting with mischief. Richard smirks, returning to his spot between Lee’s legs and starts placing butterfly kisses all over his body again. Throat, chest, arms, belly, hips, thighs, knees, and Lee gets impatient, so Richard decides it’s time for the next step.

“You alright?” he asks and Lee nods. “Good.” Richard leans forward, kisses Lee’s brow softly, and then lets his fingers travel down between Lee’s legs, circle around his hardness and further down. “Relax for me,” he says, and it’s a stupid thing to say because in a situation like this – adrenaline pumping through your veins, two people on the run, barely knowing each other – it’s hard to relax, but Lee looks at him, and he takes a deep breath and he _does_ relax, and Richard cannot help but smile.

“It’s been a while,” Lee murmurs, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. Richard finds that incredibly endearing and he kisses Lee’s lips.

“I’ll be careful.”

“I know,” Lee replies, and there is just so much trust in his voice that it makes Richard’s chest ache with affection.

Since they don’t have anything else available, Richard slicks his index finger with his saliva, finds Lee’s entrance and then gently pushes in. Lee gasps, his back arches upwards, his mouth falls open, and he’s so beautiful in that moment – pale skin flushed against the desert sand, dark long eye lashes fluttering – that it takes Richard’s breath away. He kisses Lee’s chest softly, then inserts a second finger, and Lee curses a silent “Fuck”.

Richard keeps stretching Lee a bit with his fingers, and he can feel himself growing harder at the sight, and his mind is already thinking about what is going to happen soon – when he realises that they have one problem. Involuntarily, he stops moving his fingers and is rewarded with an angry glare.

“What’s wrong? Why are you stopping? Don’t keep stopping all the time,” Lee complains and reaches up to pull Richard’s face down for another kiss.

“We… we don’t have any… protection,” Richard whispers, blushing.

“We both had a medical check-up before boarding, haven’t we?” Lee gasps out. “I’m clean, and if you are as well, then just _keep going, goddamnit_!”, and instead of answering, Richard claims his mouth again, and he does as he’s told, curling his fingers slightly and Lee cries out in pleasure.

Richard spreads his fingers gently and slowly, not wanting to hurt Lee, and with every movement, Lee’s mouth falls open a little more. When Richard uses a third finger, Lee squeezes his eyes shut and groans. Richard can feel his muscles tighten around his fingers. “Are you okay?” he asks quickly. “Shall I stop?”

“No, no,” Lee protests, “I’m good. Just… need to get used to this again.”

“Okay,” Richard breathes and gives him a little time to adjust to the uncomfortable feeling of three fingers inside him.

Lee breathes in deeply a couple of times, and he starts to relax. “I’m good,” he eventually says, angling his pelvis down on Richard’s fingers to show him. Richard bends his fingers a little, apparently hitting a sweet spot because Lee whimpers.

“Are you sure? We can go slow,” he says, not wanting to overwhelm Lee.

“Richard, hurry _up_ ,” Lee complains, spreading his legs even wider. “I can’t… I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Alright,” Richard laughs. “But tell me when you want me to stop, okay?”

“Of course, of course, just fucking _do_ it now!” He sounds rather impatient.

Richard positions himself a little differently, pulls out his fingers and reaches up to grab the small of Lee’s back supportingly. “Relax, love,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Lee’s lips again, and he gently moves forward, entering Lee inch by inch, and a moan escapes his lips. Their kiss turns sloppy now, Lee presses himself up against Richard, and this _has_ to hurt, but he doesn’t say a thing, he just urges Richard on by wrapping his calves around his back.

Richard thrusts into Lee once, and both moan at that sensation, and Richard closes his eyes, just concentrating on _feeling_ rather than seeing. And oh, there is so much to feel. He revels in being this close to Lee.

Lee starts giggling all of a sudden, the loveliest of blushes appearing on his cheeks and he runs a hand over his face. Richard can feel his muscles around him tensing and relaxing with every laugh that escapes his mouth. “What’s so funny?” he asks with a confused laugh.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Lee squeaks and shifts his hips to demonstrate his point.

“Well, you better should because _this_ is _real_ ,” Richard replies teasingly, thrusting forward at the last word, making Lee throw his head back and let out a moan.

“Oh, you cheeky bastard,” Lee growls, grabbing the back of Richard’s head and pulling him down for a bruising kiss, grazing Richard’s lower lip with his teeth.

“Problem?” Richard breathes against his mouth, and in response, Lee angles his pelvis upwards a little and pushes down, taking Richard even deeper inside him. Richard groans, he’s feeling feverish now, and he thinks that this whole situation should feel awkward – but it doesn’t. It feels _right_ , and oh so perfect, and he thrusts into Lee again and again and again until they are both reduced to a panting, moaning mess and a hopeless tangle of limbs.

Lee arches his back and jerks, shuddering and trembling, melting against the sand, legs still locked around Richard’s back. His fingers dig into Richard’s shoulder blades, leaving red trails behind, and Richard keeps pushing into him, and he can’t think straight anymore. ’ _Lee Lee Lee oh God Lee Lee Lee_ ’.

Richard can feel himself getting close, and he wants to pleasure Lee as well, so he pushes a hand between them, cupping Lee and moving it up and down, while keeping up a steady rhythm of thrusts. Lee’s moans become high-pitched whimpers, and his hip movements become jerkier and more erratic by the second. “I’m so close,” Lee moans, and Richard speeds up, tightening his grip on Lee. Staccato cries escape Lee’s mouth now, and Richard can feel his muscles tensing up.

Words cannot describe what Richard feels in this moment. It’s not just the heat, the tightness, the closeness, the flushed skin and the tousled hair, the pupils blown wide and the mouths kissed red – it’s the emotional bond that’s forming between them, all at once and yet so slowly. It’s two synchronised heart beats, two bodies as one, two people united in the most desired feeling of all – love. He can see it in Lee’s eyes, he can see it in his smile. He can feel it when Lee’s hands touch him oh so tenderly. He can feel it in his own chest and belly and throat. He can feel it spreading through his whole body.

Richard can hear Lee moaning his name in an ecstatic cry, warm fluid drips over his hand, and it’s enough to push him over the edge as well. As the blissful feeling of relaxation and pleasure and warmth hits him, Richard lowers himself to lie flush against Lee’s chest, breathing heavily. He can hear Lee’s heart beat, and feel his ribcage rise with every breath, and he feels safe and at peace and… at home.

Eventually, Richard shifts a bit, pulling Lee into his arms, chin resting atop Lee’s head. He holds him tight and just breathes him in, and just enjoys the afterglow of their closeness.

Boneless and nerveless, Lee rolls his head to the side, and languidly opens his eyes. He looks up at Richard and smiles, a warm and soft and affectionate smile, and Richard smiles back. He gently cups Lee’s cheek with a weak hand and runs his thumb across his cheekbone. “Good night, Lee,” he whispers and Lee leans up to kiss him tenderly before snuggling up close against Richard’s chest and falling asleep in seconds.

That night, they have found their reason for kissing each other.

~*~

Walking hand in hand through the desert the next day proves to be a bit difficult, but Lee and Richard manage it quite well nonetheless. They find a well, surprisingly, in the middle of their way, and they refill their water bottles. That calms Lee a little, since he had been worried about their lack of water ever since Richard had spilled it. In a rather good mood, they continue their journey. Unexpectedly, they come across a sandy road, and Lee figures that it’s most likely the Kandahar Ghazni Highway.

Richard pulls out his compass, checking the direction they’re headed to. “Hm,” he ponders, “if we keep going straight on, we should be able to reach the military outpost in a few hours.”

Lee walks up to him and peeks over his shoulder at the compass, then looks at the landscape surrounding him. “You mean we should follow this road?”

Richard looks up and scans the sandy street. “It would technically lead us right towards Kandahar, if I’m not mistaken.”

“And the outpost is just a little outside the city, isn’t it?” Lee asks, arms akimbo.

“That’s true but… we’d be more than easy prey if we took the road,” Richard points out. “Just think about this – we’ve been on the run for a couple of days already. They’d expect us to show up around here, and if we just casually walk down the road, they’ll find us sooner than we’d like them to.”

“I’d rather they didn’t find us at all,” Lee retorts and sighs. “So where should we go?”

Richard shrugs. “I’d say – cross-country.”

Lee whines. “We’ve been cutting across country since we left that ruined city. I’m kinda tired of all this.”

“Me too,” Richard replies. “Believe me. But we’ve got the choice between getting shot in a matter of seconds or actually being able to make it to the outpost by sneaking through the desert.”

“It’s enemy territory, though, isn’t it?” Lee asks thoughtfully. “When I was being held in the isolated cell, El-Sayed kept telling me he owned the land around Kandahar, and much more. There could be tons of spies out here.”

“It’s still the safer option,” Richard says. “So let’s go, and not waste any more time by standing around, doing nothing.”

“Fine.” Lee sets off at a brisk pace and Richard follows, trailing away from the road and right into the desert.

~*~

They follow the compass needle towards southwest. The wasteland’s appearance is changing as they progress. There are rocks and boulders everywhere now instead of sand, some withered bushes and grasses occasionally strewn across the desert. The arising wind funnels down the bleak desolation of rocks and whirls sand into their eyes every now and then. The sun is shining hot and bright, too much so, but they don’t want to allow themselves another break. They both wanted to reach the American base station as soon as possible so that this nightmare might finally come to an end.

’ _Well,_ almost _nightmare_ ,’ Richard thinks and stares at Lee’s back in front of him. Richard was using their hike through this impassable terrain to let his thoughts flow and arrange them anew. ’ _Without all this crap I would have never met Lee. I don’t regret that at all… or do I? I mean, I like him. I like him a lot. Bugger this, I can’t even remember liking another person as much as I like him… oh, and there it is again, that warm feeling spreading through me every time I think about him. It feels so nice. As if… as if a cold hole in me has closed. Or as if it has been swapped against a warm, bright light. I have no idea how I was able to live_ without _this feeling before._

_‘Or maybe I … survived because the now lacking coldness prevented me from breaking down? I know it’s terribly dangerous to be attached to someone in my job. It makes you weak, and vulnerable. I’ve been through this quite often before. With Greene, too. And this hell we’ve been in – well, that was even more proof, wasn’t it?_

_'The thing is, we have been trained to bear pain. Pain is easy to put up with, compared to something else. If you’re in a torture situation like this, you don’t talk. You keep quiet at all cost, and you bear the pain, because you_ have _to, because it’s your_ job _, and I’m fine with that. So, why did I talk? Because I had something to lose._

_'Because I got attached._

_'Because we don’t get trained how to stand the pain you feel when someone you love has to suffer. It’s nothing one_ can _learn, after all, and that’s why it’s all the more worse._

_'Lee and me, we were weak because we had each other. But at the same time, we were strong because we had each other._

_'How is this going to go on? What will we do when… when we’ve reached our destination?_ ’

“Are you staring at my ass?” Lee asks suddenly.

“What?” Richard blinks in surprise, being jolted out of his thoughts, and stares down at Lee who has perched to tie his shoelaces. He looks into a face that grins at him cheekily – or rather, with a filthy smirk.

“You’re staring at my butt, aren’t you?”

“What? No! I was just… in thoughts!” Richard protests.

“Yeah, sure.” Lee gets up with a laugh. “Not that I blame you – it _is_ nice to look at, isn’t it?” He slaps his butt with his hands and squeezes. Richard reflexively flexes his fingers.

“Would you… would you mind if I was staring?” Richard asks, now a little curious.

“Course not!” Lee turns and walks backwards. “Staring isn’t forbidden. But you can admit it if you want something from me.”

“Hah. Believe me, Lee, if I wanted something specific from you then I wouldn’t have wasted my time with staring. You’d have been underneath me, squirming and moaning and screaming, a long time ago already.”

Lee looks at him with wide eyes, at a loss for words, surprised. He hadn’t known so much frankness and straightforwardness from Richard yet. So instead, Lee turns back, cheeks burning, and he keeps walking. Richard can see the grin on his face, though. He fist bumps his inner self, proud of having made Lee speechless, and he enjoys the red hue now tinting Lee’s face and neck. Heavens, he could spend his whole life just _looking_ at this man, explore every inch of him, and then slowly…

“What were you thinking about?”

Richard curses himself silently. He should really stop the daydreaming. “I’ve been thinking how things would go on when we reach the base station.”

“Well, what special thing’s gonna happen? Nothing. We’ll talk to our superiors, tell them what we found out. We know El-Sayed’s hideout, we know his way of thinking, and we know the people he works together with. Those are pretty damn useful information, if you ask me. Should be child’s play to catch him with that. What happens to El-Sayed and his people then… well, that’s not for us to worry about, is it? Our bosses can rack their brains over that. If they want to finish him off or interrogate him first.”

“Well… that’s not exactly what I meant,” Richard replies hesitantly.

Lee looks at him in confusion. “What _did_ you mean, then?”

“I mean… how _we_ will go on. What will happen to _us_ when we’re over with all this? When El-Sayed’s been caught, when our mission’s done. Will you fly back to the States, and I fly back to the UK and… and that’s it?” Richard feels himself getting upset a little, and he forces himself to stay calm.

“What d'you mean by ’ _that’s it’_?”

“Oh, come _on_ , Lee. You know full well what I mean!” Richard growls furiously. He hates being the one who has to bring up the topic that still lingers between them silently, the one they still haven’t resolved yet, despite their talk last night.

Lee laughs. “Alright, alright. I _do_ know what you want to say. I just love it too much that you still can’t bring yourself to actually say it out loud,” he giggles, then thinks about it for a moment. “I don’t know what’s gonna happen,” he replies a little more serious. “I mean, you know that we can’t be together, right? Not with our jobs. You can’t just switch to the CIA in a heartbeat, and neither can I jump over the pond and be a MI6 agent. Besides, even if we _were_ to stay in our organisations, they wouldn’t allow us to live together.”

“We’d be a safety risk,” Richard sighs, defeated.

“Yeah. We might expose secret information about our Secret Services, not voluntarily, but you get the drift,” Lee agrees. “And there’s one more thing: it’d be too dangerous. You’ve seen how easily they could blackmail us with each other. And I doubt that’s going to stop anytime soon.”

Lost in thoughts, Lee walks on. Richard doesn’t dare to interrupt his train of thought, so he just follows him, waiting anxiously for his next words.

“Richard…” Lee stops and turns to look at him. “What do you think of Canada?”

Richard was just about to roll his eyes in annoyance at this sudden change of topic when a bullet shoots past his head by a hair’s breadth and hits the rock close to him.

Lee and Richard instinctively duck down, cursing silently. There is a Jeep getting closer and closer, the wind must have overlapped the noise of the engine. The car was still about half a mile away, but Richard could clearly see El-Sayed and five of his men speeding towards them. Lee and Richard start running, trying to get as many boulders between them and their pursuers to protect themselves from more, possibly lethal shots.

El-Sayed and his guards can’t follow them through the maze of tightly scattered rocks, so he hops off the car, taking four of his men with him, running after them. Richard and Lee realise they can’t possibly throw them off any longer, five against two – they don’t stand a chance. Their wounds were still not properly healed, the lack of water drained them of their strength. They had no other option than to look for suitable cover and face their attackers.

A shot hits the sand only inches away from Richard’s feet. He reacts immediately, grabbing Lee’s arm and yanking him behind a big boulder a few feet away.

“We don’t have much ammunition left,” he hisses with a strained voice. “Let them come closer first, then we can finish them off!”

Lee nods grimly, keeping his eyes fixed on El-Sayed. Richard can see how the memories of the past days are boiling up in him again, anger spreading in his body. He would have to pay attention now – Lee mustn’t do something stupid now!

El-Sayed and his guards had closed in on them, only a few feet between them now. They are looking for cover themselves, and Richard grits his teeth angrily when he hears the hated voice of their tormentor.

“I bet you two sweeties wonder how I found you,” he says to no-one in particular, looking around and trying to spy Richard and Lee somewhere. “I have my little birds everywhere,” El-Sayed says with a shrug. “And one of the told me that you forced him to tend to your wounds. He told me as quickly as he could, though. And here I am.”

“Get outta here,” Lee curses under his breath. “This can’t be fucking true.”

“I’m afraid it is,” El-Sayed says with an innocent face, then produces a small walkie-talkie from his pockets and bellows something in Pashto. Richard can understand as much to know that he is calling for his guards. “You didn’t kill all of them, my precious British friend,” El-Sayed says. “This land here belongs to me, and the people in it as well. I’ve still got five guards left, and they are coming to get you. You’ll be back in your cell in no time, and then I’ll contact the MI6 in exchange for the terrorist you have captured – and I’ll probably kill you,” he says with a shrug, looking at Lee.

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Richard growls, but El-Sayed just laughs.

“You’re too cute, so optimistic and brave. I would’ve thought all the pain taught you a lesson. What a pity that it didn’t.”

As if on cue, the guards march up behind him, weapons and machetes pointed at Richard and Lee. Richard feels his body tensing up and the adrenaline kick in. He flexes the fingers of his right hand, ready to pull the weapon off his back and use it. He wants to see if they can do this without bloodshed first, though – there has been too much of that in the past weeks.

They are facing each other now, Richard and Lee on one side, the guards opposite. Neither of them moves. El-Sayed takes a few steps back, grinning widely. “Well, then, boys, let the games begin! Get the British guy alive, and if you capture the American alive or dead – that’s your choice. Off you go!”

The first shots are fired, flying over their heads, almost hitting them. The guards thankfully aren’t the most clever people on earth and shoot without thinking. They don’t aim very well – if they take aim at all – and don’t pay attention to the wind that makes the bullets go astray.

Richard and Lee stay covered. In silent agreement they wait for the breaks when the men recharge their guns.

Then they strike back.

Richard has fewer munition but his weapon is more precise. While Lee covers him with his pistol, Richard takes his time to aim perfectly. A shot through the eye kills off the first guard. Guy number two is finished off by a shot through the neck.

Richard ducks back into cover again.

El-Sayed yells something at the remaining men, something Richard isn’t able to understand since the noise of the shots is overlaying every other sound. One guard reloads, so Richard and Lee can finally return fire again.

But El-Sayed’s men seem to have learned from the mistakes of their now dead colleagues, taking better cover now. Richard curses, and misses three times. The taller of the two makes an inconsiderate move, Lee takes the chance to shoot his flanks. The man falls backwards.

The last bastard proves to be especially persistent. He knows how to use the cover of his rock perfectly, shooting in their general direction angrily. Richard takes aim again, trying to finish him off with a proper shot when he suddenly notices that Lee isn’t covering his side anymore. Lee had noticed how El-Sayed was trying to sneak towards them from behind, covered by the rocks. From the corner of his eye Richard sees Lee crawling towards El-Sayed in turn, hidden until the last moment, attacking him with a forceful punch to the nose. _Lee wants revenge_ , Richard realises. _He wants to fulfil his mission._ He lets him. He can’t help him, though, the last of El-Sayed’s guards still keeps him at bay so that he isn’t able to leave his position. Richard’s eyes quickly scan the ground and he curses when he sees Lee’s gun lying in the dust a few inches away, the empty clip next to it.

The reason for the magazine being empty is a rather simple one: Lee had banged away at everyone daring to step into their line of sight, even though his weapon was more or less useless at this distance. But he knew what Richard was planning to do, so he tried distracting them from Richard’s precisely aimed shots. He even hit the third guy, though if fatal he could not tell. When he pulled the trigger a couple more times, it was no more than an empty _click_ , and he realised he had used all of his bullets.

That was when he sees El-Sayed moving between the rocks. He carelessly throws his gun away, mentally telling Richard that he is on his own now and started crawling towards the Afghan. He knows it is risky to attack him alone, especially with his condition, but the anger in his tummy and the never ending wish for revenge spur him on, letting him forget the thirst and the pain.

El-Sayed’s ugly face is just peeking around a rock when Lee hits him hard. ’ _You’re mine now, you bastard_ ,’ Lee thinks, and punches him again. El-Sayed staggers backwards, but is able to compose himself quickly, pointing his gun at Lee. Lee reaches for his wrist before he can pull the trigger, and for a moment, both men struggle for the weapon. Lee presses a thumb into El-Sayed’s hand joint to point the barrel into the opposite direction. Lee is bigger than El-Sayed which gives him a useful advantage. He is able to brace himself against the Afghan, turning the weapon away from him from a better angle.

El-Sayed tries to throw Lee of balance with a kick against his leg, but Lee is able to block the kick by turning to the side. El-Sayed himself loses balance now, and Lee takes the chance to smash his elbow into El-Sayed’s face. El-Sayed hits the rock behind him, Lee grabs his hand again and drives it against the boulder over and over and over again until El-Sayed finally drops the gun.

Lee wraps his hands around his throat. He wanted to squeeze the life out of him, let him feel his anger, and let the hatred in his eyes be the last thing El-Sayed would see.

Richard is still aiming at the last guard hiding behind the rock. For endless seconds, nobody moves, but after a while, Richard can spot the edge of a head peeking out over the ledge of the rock. The guard is probably testing the waters, and Richard uses this opportunity to pull the trigger and shoot him. The guard falls backwards, dead.

“ _Gah!_ ” A gurgled cry makes Richard turn around and he sees El-Sayed having Lee in a headlock. How that could have happened, Richard doesn’t know. Maybe Lee’s blind fury has made him a little careless, a little rash – and one moment of negligence can be fatal in such a situation.

“Lee!” Richard cries out in panic. What is this Afghan guy up to now?

“ _Take him_!” El-Sayed orders his guard who is stumbling across the sand towards him. “Take him, and then we’ll have Armitage yield because if he doesn’t, we’ll kill Lee, and you don’t want that, do you?” He is looking at him now, fury in his eyes.

The answer is no – Richard doesn’t want Lee killed. He doesn’t want Lee harmed at all. But he cannot react, cannot move, seems to be frozen and turned to stone. The guard Lee shot before hobbles the last few inches towards Lee and El-Sayed to help his boss, dragging his machete with him.

Richard fires again.

This time, he hits the guard’s head.

The last man goes down. In falling, with his last strength, he violently drags the blade of his machete over the back of Lee’s knees in a swift movement. Lee _yells._ The tendons of his right knee are cut, he can’t hold himself any longer, he drops backwards. Blood spatters from the wound in a pulsing rhythm. He probably hit the artery running through the knee pit. It’s not too much blood, but the loss of it could still be fatal. El-Sayed is still clinging to Lee, using him as a shield, walking backwards, now in panic. Richard has to _do_ something. _Anything_.

El-Sayed has no weapon. Lee has dropped his. He has to get El-Sayed to fall, but shooting him is impossible. Lee and the Afghan are still struggling, and since El-Sayed is smaller, he hides behind Lee. But then again, that is a huge advantage – Lee is taller, heavier, gravity is on his side.

There is only one option.

If Lee topples over, so will El-Sayed.

Lee’s right leg is already injured, and the back of his left knee has a little grazing wound anyway, right?

Richard’s finger trembles as it closes around the trigger.

_Forgive me, Lee. I do not want to do this but El-Sayed must be stopped_.

He closes his eyes.

A gun shot breaks the silence.

A piercing yell echoes through the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Wednesday, you'll get both the last chapter and the epilogue, and then the Brothers in Arms ride will be over. Hopefully you'll like what we still have in store ... ;)


	8. A Silver Lining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard is left to deal with the things he has done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My lovelies, have the last chapter and the epilogue now and enjoy them! (And of course, attichen's manips.) We might have a surprise for you in the end...

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The heart monitor is beeping relentlessly, the noise shrill and piercing in Richard’s ears. Lee is on the bed in front of him, cable-connected to several medical gadgets that Richard doesn’t know. Lee’s eyes are closed, a tube poking out of his nose, plugged in to a ventilatory support.

Richard is holding Lee's hand, not taking his eyes off him while he is talking to Mr Graham on the phone the military base has given him. It's a short talk and Richard is telling Graham what has happened in the past few days and he also gives him all the information he was able to collect. He doesn't tell him about Lee, however.

“I'm proud of you, Armitage,” Graham says. “I knew you'd be a good man for this.”

“I didn't bring El-Sayed back home, boss,” Richard argues, running his fingers over Lee's arm.

“Maybe not, but you were ready to sacrifice yourself to the MI6, Richard. It's not something anyone would do. You were locked up and tortured for weeks, and yet you fought and got important information – for me, that's enough to be proud of.” Graham sounds sincere, and it brightens Richard's spirits somewhat.

“Thanks.”

“Now, Richard,” Graham continues, his voice growing softer. “I want you to get a little rest and then come home unharmed. Right?”

Richard looks at Lee's lifeless form and makes a decision. “Boss – I'm sorry to say this, but it might very well be that I'm not returning to the MI6.” And with that, he hangs up, touching his forehead to Lee's hands.

A doctor enters, a nurse at his side. Richard looks up at them, terror taking over his body when the nurse wheels Lee’s bed outside the room. The doctor walks up to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “The results are in. The damage to Mr Pace’s body seems to be higher than we originally thought.”

Richard winces, tears welling up in his eyes. This is _his_ fault, and only his. Just because he cared more about catching El-Sayed than about his friend, because he didn’t want to stay on the road, because he hadn’t killed El-Sayed in the first place when he had the chance to, Lee is now brought into the operation room, and he is sick and hurt all over and the _damage is even worse than expected_.

The doctor continues, “To be frank with you… we do not know how the operation will go. We don’t have all the proper equipment to put everything back into place, and he has lost a lot of blood. We do have some blood type O negative banked, but we don’t know if it’ll be enough. It’s a rare blood type.”

“This can’t be true,” Richard whimpers, allowing the tears to roll down his cheeks. Lee had been so brave, and so enduring, and he had come to like him and adore him, and now it might be all over in a couple of minutes – just because Richard had been selfish.

“I’m afraid it is true,” the doctor sighs. “You see, Mr Pace’s hamstring tendons have been parted by the machete. It’s quite a difficult operation to sew them back together, and it might be that can never walk again. And then there’s the blood loss – it’s been too much already and as I said, we might not have enough blood banked. He might… even lose his leg.”

“Oh _God_ ,” Richard cries out, burying his face behind his hands.

The doctor gives him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and exits the room with a “Don’t give up hope yet” on his lips.

While Lee is being operated, Richard has a lot of time to think.

He realises it’s basically the same mistake he made with Jacob Greene – he didn’t watch out properly for Lee. He should have stayed with him, close to him, he should have prevented Lee from attacking El-Sayed on his own. He should have shot the guards quicker – they would have been able to flee earlier and Lee wouldn’t have had to attack El-Sayed. Richard should have also killed the machete guy sooner. And he probably shouldn’t even have accepted this mission. Lee would have killed El-Sayed and would be back home now. Safe. Or he could have at least talked to Lee when he saw him in the hotel. That would have made a lot of things easier.

But most of all, he shouldn’t have shot at Lee.

As Richard keeps showering himself with self-reproaching thoughts, all the memories come crashing back, and he is in the Afghan desert again, gun still in his hands, ears still ringing from the gun shot.

~*~

Richard opens his eyes as he hears the piercing yell, hands trembling around the grip of his gun. El-Sayed and Lee are down on the ground, a puddle of blood forming around them quickly. Way too quickly for Richard’s liking.

El-Sayed immediately starts to crawl away, dragging his leg after him – Richard has hit him with his last bullet. And not Lee.

Relief washes over him as Richard realises that Lee is _fine_ – well, considering the circumstances. That he isn’t shot, that he is still alive, and most importantly, that Richard didn’t hurt him further. He couldn’t care less about El-Sayed trying to escape in this moment. The bullet has probably hit an artery, he won’t live much longer anyway. So Richard throws his gun away and runs towards Lee, cradling his head in his arms. He presses his lips to Lee’s brow, eyes squeezed shut to keep the tears of joy and relief from falling.

His moment of happiness is abruptly interrupted by a muffled scream, and Richard realises two seconds later that it has come from Lee. Lee is grabbing the back of his knees, and Richard suddenly remembers the guy who dragged his machete over them.

His mind snaps into action.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck _fuck_ ,” Richard curses, frantically looking for something to cool the injury with. “Stay still, stay the fuck _still_ , Lee!”

“Like I can move!” Lee yells back, letting his head fall into the sand, moaning in pain.

Richard scoots back to him quickly, grabbing a hold of his leg and gently pressing their water bottle against the wound. “It’s not cold, I know, but it still is a little cool. One good thing about desert nights, I suppose. Keep pressing it against your knee.”

“What are you doing?” Lee grits out.

Richard rips off his shirt. “Trying to help you, for God’s sake! They cut one of your tendons, you can be glad that they didn’t cut through it entirely or you wouldn’t be able to move your leg at all now!” He grabs the water bottle from Lee’s hand, drips some of the water on his shirt and then quickly builds a pressure bandage out of the bottle and the shirt.

“And you think that’ll make me walk again?” Lee asks sarcastically.

“Course not,” Richard retorts, “but it’ll help prevent a swelling and bruising. We’ve got to get you to the base soon, though. They need to sew the tendon back together.”

“Well, then, let’s go!” Lee says, a little panic in his voice.

“No!” Richard resolutely pushes him back down. “You can’t move now. The wound is still too fresh. We should wait a little.”

“But not too long!” Lee pleads and Richard agrees.

“An hour, tops. Promise. You just need to calm down a little. Give your body the chance to work on closing the wound. Then we’ll be off. And in the meantime,” Richard says and positions himself differently, “I’m going to massage the muscles around your knee. That will prevent adherences.”

“Right.” Lee sighs, flinching when Richard begins to gently massage the flesh around the wound. He’s careful, he truly is, but it still hurts, he can see that much in Lee’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s fine. You’re just trying to help. We’ve come so far, I’ll be able to survive that too,” Lee says weakly.

“I’m sure you will,” Richard nods, trailing a hand up to Lee’s chest, then he leans forward and softly kisses Lee on the lips. “I’m proud of you, my brave, strong Lee.”

He smiles, and Lee smiles back.

Richard hears a car starting in the distance, and he briefly ponders if he should go and ask for help, but he doesn’t want to leave Lee’s side so he disregards it, and later, he won’t even remember it.

When Richard decides they have waited long enough, Richard grabs Lee’s right arm and leg, throwing each over one shoulder and starts carrying him towards the military outpost. “We’ll be there soon,” he says. “Sooner than you think. Two hours, maybe. Or three.”

“More like five,” Lee replies. “You have to carry me, you’re weakened too, it will be harder to walk quickly now.”

“Rubbish,” Richard protests. “We’ll be there soon, and then they’ll patch you up and you’ll be as good as new.”

“It’s just.. what if I can never walk again?” The panic returns to Lee’s voice.

“You will. You will, you will, you _will_ ,” Richard says, but Lee doesn’t reply.

Richard keeps talking and talking and talking, about their countries and how they will come home and how Lee will see his sister again and how everything is going to be alright, but Lee just doesn’t answer.

Worry seeps through Richard’s bones, so he gently kneels and places Lee on the ground, turning to look at him. Lee’s head is lolled back, he has lost consciousness, and Richard bites his lower lip in worry and pain. He reaches out to touch Lee’s neck, feeling his pulse – and thank _God_ , it’s still there. They have to make it… they cannot give up now. Not after all they’ve been through.

Richard trudges on bravely, determined to bring Lee safely to the outpost, when he sees a Jeep pulling towards them. Richard still flinches. What if more of El-Sayed’s men have come to get them?

But it turns out that the car is driven by an American soldier on patrol, who, coincidentally, belongs to the outpost Richard and Lee are heading towards. It takes a load of Richard’s mind when the friendly man suggests to drive them up to the station after Richard has explained what happened. They don’t have their badges on them, of course, but the military outpost can check their records and fingerprints if need be.

Carefully, the soldier and Richard place Lee on the back seat of the car, Richard hops in next to the driver, and they take off quickly into the opposite direction. It’s a thirty minute drive through deserted wasteland, and not a single drop of water in sight, and Richard knows they probably wouldn’t have made it on their own.

Lee wakes up about five minutes before they reach the outpost.

They stop in front of the station soon after, and while the soldier runs inside to get the doctors, Richard gently scoops Lee up in his arms and carries him out of the car.

“We did it, Lee,” Richard breathes and hugs him tightly to his chest. Lee wraps his arms around him and pulls him closer. “We did it.”

Richard allows the relief to wash over him, encompass him, and he kisses Lee right there, right then, in the middle of the Afghan desert, and he feels happy. Oh, so _happy_.

~*~

But happiness is not what Richard feels at the moment.

Fingers tightened in his hair, clutching it desperately, Richard feels terrible and scared.

It has been two hours now, and Lee still is not out of the operation room. He sends a silent prayer to the heavens, he has already prayed for Lee once, and so he tries again.

_Please, God, let him come through. Let him recover. I’ve finally found someone I want to spend my future with. You can’t take him from me now, you_ mustn’t! _We have to stay together. We_ have _to._

It’s in this moment that Richard realises that he would do anything for Lee. He would even quit his job at the MI6 – especially because he never wants to be in such a situation again. First Greene, and now Lee. Two people he liked – and Lee, he loved, and his carelessness and false priorities had almost cost him both of them. He doesn’t know if he would survive if that ever happened again.

And if Lee should survive, Richard wants to stay with him and be there for him, take care of Lee whenever the need arises.

Richard says another prayer, and just when he’s finished, the door to the room opens again.

The nurse pushes Lee’s bed back inside, and Lee is _on_ it, and that’s the first thing that makes Richard’s heart skip a beat. The doctor steps in after them, and as he sees Richard’s questioning look, he smiles. “It went really well, I must say,” he states. “Mr Pace’s body is a strong one and we didn’t need as much blood as we thought we might need. He has a strong heart.”

Richard smiles fondly at the sleeping figure on the bed.

“I should think he will pull through,” the doctor continues. “About his leg – well, we don’t know if he will walk again, but we could at least sew the tendons back together. It’s all about his body’s healing powers now.”

Richard exhales shakily.

It’s going to be fine.

_Lee_ is going to be fine.

The doctor smiles at him one last time and beckons the nurse to leave with him. The door shuts after them, and Richard is alone with Lee.

Lee is still asleep and his heart is still being monitored, but he is breathing on his own now. Richard softly kisses Lee’s forehead, and watches his chest rise and fall in a peaceful breathing rhythm for a while before Richard allows himself to doze off as well in the chair next to the bed.

What he doesn’t know is that Lee wakes up about ten minutes afterwards and as he sees Richard slumped in the chair, holding Lee’s hand even in his sleep, Lee smiles and thanks God for giving him that man, dropping back into a dreamless sleep.

~*~

When Lee wakes the next morning, the first thing he sees is a big blob of red next to a big blob of what seems to be Richard. He blinks lazily and rubs his eyes, then stares at the man in front of him.

“Good morning,” Richard says and holds out the red blob which turns out to be some tulips and poppy. “Get well soon.”

Lee laughs. “Where did you get those flowers?”

Richard nods towards the door. “Plucked some in the desert. Don’t ask me why they’re growing there, they just are.”

Lee shakes his head and carefully takes the flowers, inhaling their scent and marvelling at their beauty. “You’re crazy, you know that?” he asks with a fond smile, patting the bed next to his leg. “Come sit down here.”

Richard does, and Lee immediately wraps his right arm around his neck, pulling him close against his chest.

“How are you?” Richard whispers against Lee’s neck.

“Okay, I guess,” Lee replies. “Pretty high on morphine, so I’m good. And now that I’ve got you here, I’m even better.”

Richard grins, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. “The doctor said you’ll be fine. And that your body is strong so the tendons might heal well.”

“Might?” Lee repeats. “So… they don’t know if I’ll walk again?”

“Yeah, but I think you _will_ ,” Richard replies. “You’re strong.” He pinches Lee’s cheek teasingly. “You’ve endured so much already – this is child’s play for you now.”

But Lee doesn’t seem to think so. His face has hardened, and his fingers clench in his duvet. “Don’t say that,” he growls. “You know that I’ll need help recovering and I have no-one at home. My sister is busy with her family as it is, and there’s nobody else to help me.”

Richard frowns. “But _I_ am there.”

Lee scoffs. “Yeah. Sure. You’re going back to the MI6, and back to good old England. You might be here now, but soon, there will be a helicopter, taking both of us into different countries, never to be seen again.”

“Lee, no,” Richard protests. “This is rubbish and you know it. I’ll stay with you.”

“You’ve got your _job_!” Lee says, a lump forming in his throat. “And I still have mine – even though they’ll probably fire me since I _will never walk again_. I’m a _cripple_.” At that, Lee – strong, brave, tough Lee – bursts into tears and all Richard can do is watch. “Maybe it _is_ better that you’ll never see me again.”

Richard reaches out to wipe the tears of Lee’s face, but Lee swats his hand away. “Don’t.”

“Lee,” Richard begins hesitantly. “I don’t know how to make you understand, but I _will_ stay with you. For as long as you want me to. Forever, preferably. I’ll quit my job, I’ve made my decision. I want to be with _you_.”

Lee looks at him from underneath wet lashes. “Why? I’m a cripple.”

“You already said that,” Richard says with a smile. “I want to stay with you because I love you.”

Lee blinks at him blankly, studying his face intently, probably looking for a clue if Richard is honestly meaning this. “You… you’ll stay?”

“Of course,” Richard says with a laugh, poking the tip of Lee’s nose. “I love you. I bloody love you, you daft bugger.”

Lee keeps staring at him, mouth opened a little in surprise. He sneaks a hand into one of Richard’s, and again, there are tears welling up in his eyes as he breathes, “I love you, too!” and Richard feels that special warmth he always feels with Lee spreading through his body, and he knows he truly is in love, and that falling for Lee was the best decision he could have made.

Lee points at his legs. “But are you certain? I mean, it’s not sure if I can ever walk again. I will be useless in my job. I will be… nothing.” His voice breaks and he lets out something akin to a sob.

Richard covers Lee’s hands with his own, and when he answers, his voice is but a whisper. “We’ll make this work. We’ve managed to survive so many things already – we’ll be able to do this, too. We’ll pull through!”

Lee’s eyes flicker down to Richard’s lips and he takes the cue, gently leaning forward and kissing Lee with so much tenderness and love and affection that it almost hurts – but in a good way. For once, everything they feel is bliss.

When they break the kiss, Lee whispers a soft “Thank you”, so quiet that Richard almost can’t hear it.

“For what?”

“For being my future.”

And now it’s Richard’s turn to sob, and he kisses Lee again, and he tastes the salt of their tears on his lips, a salt-tanged witness of their love.

Their whole situation is far from perfect, yes. But, as they say, every cloud has a silver lining, and they still have each other. They will make it.

Together.

“Lee, didn’t you say something about Canada?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> of COURSE we didn't let them die, the story was painful enough to write anyway, and we wouldn't have survived a death. :'D  
> And now on to the epilogue, my friends, and then this ride will be over...


	9. Epilogue - Didn't You Say Something About Canada?

Richard looks out at the snowy mountain tops, the blue sky only sometimes interrupted by a few clouds, the little lake in front of their cabin, and the green trees surrounding it. It’s a beautiful landscape, and every morning, Richard feels incredibly lucky to live here. It’s a wonderful thing, their life in Canada.

On his chest, Lee is snoring quietly, still sleeping soundly, arms wrapped around Richard’s waist. His mouth is opened a little, and he looks just too adorable with his face smushed up against Richard’s chest. Richard fondly trails his fingers through Lee’s hair.

He knows it’s pointless to try and get up because Lee Pace turns into a clingy koala bear at night, wrapping his arms even tighter around Richard whenever he moves. So he just settles back against the pillows comfortably, absent-mindedly stroking Lee’s hair, and reaching for his book on the night stand.

Richard enjoys these quiet hours that belong just to themselves. He feels truly at peace here, especially with Lee in his arms. Quitting their jobs and moving away has been the best decision they could have made. Richard has never been happier before.

It’s a placid way of life, and Richard loves every moment of it. The shared meals, the cuddling sessions in front of the fire place, the movie nights, Lee belting out “Wannabe” in the bathroom, their slow dancing to some cheesy old love songs, their childish sword fighting with their umbrellas, skinny dipping in the lake, hours spent horseback riding through the breathtaking countryside, their shy kisses under the star-spangled firmament above – it’s everything he ever wanted.

Richard is still working as a consultant for the MI6 since he has a lot of experience, but he doesn’t go on missions anymore. Lee has taken a huge interest in being a lumberjack, and they can make a living with what they earn. They don’t need much luxury anyway. As long as they have each other, they are happy.

Richard puts his book down and looks over at the clock. Time to get up, he decides. They have a lot to do today. Besides, Richard’s arm is going numb slowly but steadily, what with Lee lying on it. Lee is still sleeping happily, though, not a care in the world, rubbing his left cheek up and down Richard’s chest like a content cat. Richard holds Lee’s nose tightly between thumb and index finger, smiling as Lee grunts and inhales through his mouth, then blinks awake.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Richard smiles and Lee moans.

“I was asleep.”

“And now you’re not. Get up, we’ve got things to do,” Richard says with a laugh and bends his head to kiss Lee good morning. Lee kisses back sleepily but only “under protest” as he says. They kiss lazily for a while and only break the kiss when Lee’s stomach rumbles.

“Be quiet,” he hisses.

Richard grins. “We’d better take a shower and then make breakfast, eh?”

“Hmph.” Lee smashes his nose into the crook of Richard’s neck. “I guess.”

“Up you go then,” Richard says with a pinch of Lee’s butt.

Lee squeals and jumps out of the bed, walking towards the bathroom. He is only wearing shorts, and Richard can see the scar on the back of his right knee. Everything has healed wonderfully, but it still pains him to see it and be reminded of their terrible time in Afghanistan.

He is still staring when Lee turns around, leaning seductively against the door frame. “Aren’t you going to join me?”, and Richard is out of the bed in seconds, slamming the bathroom door shut behind them.

~*~

Lee is already sitting on the bed, putting on his clothes, as Richard walks out of their bathroom. He is drying his hair with a towel, but other than that, he’s naked, and a few water drops are still glistening on his chest. Lee cannot help but stare, and as Richard walks past him to get to the cupboard, Lee smacks his arse playfully and says, “Well, I like men now.”

Before he knows it, Lee has the towel thrown in his face. With a laugh, he rips it off and slaps it over Richard’s butt.

“Oi!” Richard complains and turns around. “What are you playing at?”

Lee grins cheekily, grabs Richard around his waist and pulls him down on top of him, falling back on the bed. “What do you think?” He leans up to kiss Richard tenderly.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Richard laughs against Lee’s lips, trying to pull away. “We’ve got to have breakfast! Remember your poor, poor tummy!”

“Breakfast can wait,” Lee says with a smirk, pulling him down again. “I’d much rather have some of _this_.” He softly bites Richard’s lower lip and Richard cannot help but moan, melting against Lee.

Lee is just trailing his hands gingerly down Richard’s side when Richard’s mobile rings. With a annoyed moan Richard reaches out to take the call.

“Leave it,” Lee groans.

“I’ve got to take this, love, sorry. It’s the work. They’ll probably want my advice again.” Richard presses the loudspeaker symbol on his phone’s screen. “Armitage speaking.”

“I’m terribly sorry to bother you two,” Mr Graham says. “But it’s urgent.”

Richard sits up, alarmed. Something in Graham’s tone of voice makes him alerted. Lee sits up as well, having noticed the shift in Richard’s mood, and he hugs him from behind, arms wrapped around his waist. Richard leans his head against Lee’s and asks, “What is it?”

“We got another video threat,” Graham says with a thick voice. “El-Sayed is back. And with him, Black Fall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES GUYS THERE WILL BE A SECOND PART (and even a third) AND WE HAVE NOT FINISHED IT YET BUT WE ARE WORKING ON IT AS OFTEN AS WE CAN!!!
> 
> Also, the book will be published soon - we changed some names and added more scenes, so it's not just the same anymore, but nevertheless, if you wish to have a look at it once it's up for sale, or if you just want to know when the second part will be up here on AO3, you can contact us at fuelbier-oswald@web.de. Just, you know, tell us who you are here on AO3 and what you want to know and we'll keep you posted :3  
> (Oh and if you want to give us your first name or nickname, that'd be great too, because we want to name you guys on our dedication page in the book, if you want to!)
> 
> And one last thing - do you guys have anything else to say about this story in general? Continuity, character arcs, characterisation, ideas, things you liked, things you didn't, that sort of thing? If you do, please don't hesitate to tell us (here or via email, or what have you) because it'd help us improve so so much... and part 2 will be better because of your suggestions and criticism!!
> 
> Until part 2 - or until some emails ;D - have a lovely time, and thank you ever ever ever so much for all this amazing support. You are the best, and we love you! ♥♥


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